Half of You, Half of Me
by WildGrape
Summary: When the path is carved and the way is set, the only thing one can do is to play their part worth of an encore. And that she will. Even with *him* along. /KCvsBishop. Rated M for M-stuff. R&Rs more than welcomed.
1. I: So Much For A Quiet Evening

_Author's Note: Surely __I don't own anything or anybody, except for Adele Farlong, who was born (as well as the whole story) out of me toying with char's appearence on 'Create Character' list - when I discovered that one could actually make a white-skinned half-drow. Neat, huh? So, here she is, my Absolutely Neutral half-elven (rather, considered 'elven' ;-) Faithless swashbuckler/duelist with tiny bits of a bard (only tiny, wanted her not to know a thing about the arcane). Some occasional NPCs are also mine. _

_P.S.: English is FAR from being my native language, so have mercy for my slips if (when?) you come across any. And feel free to point the gravest ones out - I'll sweep the mess._

_Also, all songs are not mine - but the translations are, so... no soul debt from me._

_For now, enjoy. Please:)_

* * *

**Half of You, Half of Me**

_"The duel must end in utter defeat of one of the opponents. That is the right view of a battle. Because no matter what two powers are opposing each other – it always ends up to be a fight between the good and the evil. What side you prefer?" - "I prefer to win." ('Pathologic')_

_"Wise face is not yet a sign of wisdom, gentlemen. All stupidities in the world are done with exactly a face like that. So – smile, gentlemen, smile". __(__G__.__ Gorin '__That __very __M__ü__nchhausen'__)_

_When a pessimist says "It can't get any worse", an optimist objects "Don't say that! Of course it can!" (o__ld joke)_

**I**: So Much for a Quiet Evening

She left her belongings in the room Duncan had given her and finally had a decent bath – the one she had been dreaming of in days on their way to Neverwinter. Now, standing in front of the mirror and trying to bring some order to her wet hair, Adele allowed herself for a change _not_ to think about the godsdamned silver shards and double godsdamned githyanki.

She had had enough of those thoughts already.

_And all that bothering never made a problem disappear, so why torture you__r nerves. I don't have that much of them._

_How many of those beasts we've slew by now, anyways? You'd think them be smart, get a hint and leave us alone._

…_Oh, yeah, right - no thoughts about them._

Adele stared at the reflection, trying desperately to comb her hair with her fingers - which was pointless, and she knew it.

She really wished to have _normal_ hair, straight, sleek and docile, not this wild uncontrollable mop of white and black flocks, which seemed to have a life of their own sometimes. Life that mostly consisted of regular attempts to piss Adele off, to strangle each other or to break and devour combs.

With a sigh, Adele just bunched her hair to a thick shaggy tail high on the back of her head and praised herself with an exaggerated dazzling smile, which faded away quickly. She was rarely one for broad smiles. Although Derek used to tell her that her smile was charming, that didn't convince her in the slightest. After all, bards were bards until they said all those pretty things – but it was hardly a reason for taking their words seriously. Her own opinion was that a broad smile made her look as charming as a _child_. And she never felt like one.

Never in her life.

Say 'thanks' to Daeghun.

Being hardly tired enough to sleep, she spent some time sorting out her equipment, cleaning boots and brushing clothes, making bed, wandering around the room, watching the ceiling - until finally settled for whetting her rapier that needed no whetting at all. Adele figured that anything but the blasted shards would do - her back still remembered a cracking embrace of the wooden floor of the tavern, where she ended after the scrying of the silver rubbish, remembered well enough to kill any desire of touching or even seeing the magical junk.

For tonight, at least.

Eyeing the three-edged blade of her rapier, that almost looked to grow thinner from her diligence, the woman put down the whetstone with a sigh and looked around for any other mean of freeing unspent energy. After tendays of stomping through wilderness, dealing with bandits, undead and lizards, her whole body seemed to be perplexed with sudden peace. Having nothing better to do, she decided to indulge it, sheathed the rapier, hung it on the bed-post and headed to the main room of the 'Sunken Flagon' to see if any of her companions were still there – at least, her newly acquired uncle would be for sure.

Alas, the others had already left for their apartments for beautiful rest – or full-hearted snoring in Khelgar's case - so the room was empty apart from Duncan, Sal and some patrons deep in the corner. Without her leather jerkin, wearing only a thin tunic, Adele felt cold a bit and got closer to the fireplace, leaning forward from the sofa and pulling her hands out to the pleasant warmth of fire.

"Chilly, huh?" her uncle approached her, handing the half-elven woman a glass of heated wine. "There you go, lass. It's just raining outside, that's all. Neverwinter can be a real cold store, especially in autumn, if you ask me."

"Thanks," she took the glass and squeezed it in her palms, warming her fingers. Taking a sip and licking her lips, she nodded approvingly at the taste and observed absentmindedly all the trophies, hanging on the walls of the tavern. "You sure have a lot of interesting around here, Uncle."

"That I do. A lot of stories hang on these walls," he grinned. Adele found it sweet and amusing, the way Duncan seemed to be overjoyed by the fact that he was an 'Uncle'. His gaze also swept over his riches, and he sighed. "Not all of them are enjoyable, though. I could tell you all about it, but what's the point? No tension in such stories, since you know already that I survived."

She couldn't help but smile, taking another sip from the glass. The fire was cracking merrily and the hot wine was doing its job, filling her body with pleasant warmth, making her head light and empty and all her troubles not really worth bothering.

She didn't know what it was – fireplace, wine or Duncan Farlong – but Adele suddenly felt at home. More at home than in the house she grew up.

"So…" Duncan rubbed his neck, looking at her.

"Hmm?"

"…How is he? Daeghun, I mean."

"Oh," Adele stared into the glass, at the dark-ruby liquid. "Alright, I guess," she smirked bleakly. "As usual."

"I see," Duncan smiled. "Bet he told you less than nothing and just sent packing."

"..."

"Don't take it too hard. Did that to me twice in my life. As it turned out, always for the better."

"Ah, _everything_ is for the better," she answered, shrugging slightly. "One way or another."

_If it wasn't for all that'd happened, I probably never would have learnt of your existence, uncle…_

"Now, that's a good view on life," Duncan smiled. "Well, _Daeghun_ could have told you a lot of interesting stories, you know. But somehow I doubt he did."

Adele nodded, looking up at him and smiling almost gratefully for not inquiring about Daeghun too much. Not that she didn't like speaking of her foster father – it just always turned out that there was nothing to tell. And again, like the moment she first saw the half-elf, she peered into his face, searching for resemblance in two brothers. The resemblance was, but was that of a statue and a living being. Where Daeghun's face was a flawless elven mask, just as smooth and reserved, Duncan had outlines of wrinkles beginning to show in the corners of his mouth and eyes – wrinkles not of age, but of clearly frequent smiling. Besides, human blood made light bristle come up on his face, especially on the cheekbones near his slightly pointed ears. Upon the whole his appearance was shabby, if not baggy - but somehow that made him look even more alive.

Duncan sighed: "You know, before you handed that shard, I almost thought you came here to find out about your mother."

"…My mother?" she fell out of her thoughts, almost thrown out of there by his words. For whatever reason, her mother was always a forbidden ground in her conversations with… well, anybody. In her childhood, it made her feel a victim of a universal plot of silence.

"Yeah. Esmerelle. Well, considering those shards came to light again…" noticing her dark-cobalt eyes widen in surprise, Duncan blinked non-believably. "Don't tell me he gave you the shards and never mentioned Esmerelle!"

"No…"

"By the gods, sometimes I think it would've been better for you to be brought up by a pack of wolves! How did he happen not to crack in the middle yet, keeping all that things to himself!" the half-elf shook his head in frustration and sighed again, this time in a strangely heavy way. "Then again… he always has his reasons. He'll tell you someday, I'm sure."

"..."

"Now, lass, don't you look at me that way! It's his place to tell you, not mine. I mean it." He was silent for some moments, watching the fire. "You don't even remember her, do you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Of course you don't, you were a mere babe when she… when that war… She was always up to the mark, our Esmerelle. In a good way. Such a tragedy…"

Adele didn't say anything, watching him closely, and Duncan, clearly feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, looked around again, as if hoping to find something to distract his niece… and himself, probably.

"You've got a strange band with you," he managed finally.

"They really helped me out," she smiled, thinking of the three acquaintances that so quickly and easily became the most trusted people for her. It was hard not to develop respect and trust towards those who, knowing almost nothing about her, still were willing to risk their necks alongside. Her smile didn't last for long, though, as unpleasant memories started to creep back in her head. "With all those… things trying to rip me to shreds…" she looked at her uncle again. "You sure nobody came hunting for your shard?"

"Nope, nobody," Duncan shrugged. "Nobody I'm aware of, that is. Maybe your shard is special in some way… or some such…" he smiled encouragingly. "Don't you worry, lass. You'll get into Blacklake District and speak to that Aldanon fellow Sand mentioned – and it'll all sort out."

"Hope so," she finished her wine and passed an empty glass back to Duncan. "Thanks again."

"Not at all!" his smile grew wider. "Want some more?"

"Definitely," she admitted, shivering a bit and wrapping herself in her tunic, then sank deeper into the sofa and stretched her legs out to the fire. "Damn, it _is_ chilly."

"You just wait for winter to come!" Duncan chided, going back to the counter and raising his voice, so that Adele could still hear him. "Well, we're in the North after all, what are we expecting…"

His words were suddenly cut off by the front door banging open, and the next instant in the whirlwind of raindrops there was a tall man swiftly entering the tavern. At his heels was a large wiry wolf, who stopped for a moment to shake water off his fur to the wooden floor, and then headed straight for the fireplace. His master passed the sofa on his way to the counter, without stopping or even looking flung his soaked bag in the corner and took off the hood of his cloak. Adele felt a sudden smell of smoke and wood and turned to look at the stranger curiously.

Worn leathers, a bow and a quiver behind his shoulder, a number of hunting knives, threaded down boots, some twigs and leaves caught in his grey-green cloak…

She was brought up by a ranger, so she had no problems identifying another one.

"As usual," he told Sal in a harsh, somewhat rusty voice, running his fingers through his dark close-cut hair, disheveled and sparkling copper in the firelight.

At that moment Adele heard a low growl and stared down at the wolf, who stopped near the fireplace, glaring at the woman. Carefully she pulled up her legs from the floor, and the animal at once occupied white space in front of the fender, placing his muzzle on folded forepaws.

"That's _his_ place," the ranger deadpanned, without even looking at them, and almost in one gulp drained the mug.

"Actually, this here is my _niece_, Bishop," Duncan said pointedly.

The ranger's face, swarthy, shadowed with light stubble, but handsome – even despite the scars on his skin (or a bit even _because_ of them, maybe) – remained impassive.

"And do I look like I give a damn about who it is?" he wondered at Duncan.

"Well, she _is_ my niece, so you'd better give a damn."

The ranger leaned his elbow on the counter, studied Adele with a fleeting, but strangely piercing glance of bright-hazel, almost amber eyes, then shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to his ale: "Fine, let her stick around for a while. A few more drinks, and I might get interested."

_Oh boy, - _Adele thought with some kind of irritated amusement. –_ Red alert, everybody, we've got an asshole in the building._

"Uh-huh, I definitely will," she answered coolly to his back. "All my life've been waiting for some drunken tramp to pick me up."

He didn't even turn. "Figured that at first sight."

"Bishop," Duncan growled.

"Oh, shut up, Duncan," annoyance crept into his dispassionate scornful voice at the name of the barkeeper. "Let her be happy that I need only a few drinks."

"Aw, so that was a compliment," Adele cooed in mock delight. "So sweet!" her voice dropped back to ice. "It is a shame, really, that even after a _few_ drinks you'll obviously be good-for-nothing."

"Professional opinion, I see," he nodded, still not looking at her, and before she could answer, added. "Now why don't you just shove off, like a good little nuisance."

Adele snorted, getting up from her place, and threw a questioning look at Duncan. He rolled his eyes in a telltale "don't-mind-that-bastard" way, and the woman, grinning knowingly in response, shot one last exasperated glance at the ranger's back, before leaving to her room…

_Now hold a moment - __"_Bishop_" was his name?_

_Smooth. Long-long time defrocked, I guess._


	2. II: Watch Me Go To The Watch

**II**: Watch Me Go to the Watch

Though being awake already, Adele still spent some time in bed, slipping her hands under the pillow and keeping her eyes closed. She really enjoyed the feeling of safety, brought by domestic comfort, coziness of a soft bed and a faint warm smell of some cooking from the tavern's kitchen.

Enjoyed too much, maybe.

With a deep sigh, she finally made herself crawl out of bed, get dressed and go to the main room. Neeshka, her half-demon companion, was already sitting at the table, eating something quite eagerly. Noticing Adele, she tried to swallow down mouthful of food to greet her, but failed and had to settle on simply waving her hand cheerfully. Then again, Neeshka did _everything_ cheerfully – and that's what Adele liked about her most of all. At times she even came pretty close to promising herself to save every last thief she ever came across – seeing how fortunate it turned out to be.

"Hey there, good morning," Duncan smiled from his place near the counter. "You go and have some breakfast too. They've cooked something of an omelet in the kitchen."

"Not sure it _is_ an omelet," Neeshka added, "but seems alright."

"Don't care what it is, as long as it's food," Adele took a seat near her friend, placing her elbows on the table.

Neeshka gulped back another slice of what looked like an omelet and, while chewing, raised her finger to demand attention. Adele silently arched her brow at her, holding a chuckle, and the tiefling reached for her belt, taking a small leather bag from it, which she dropped on the table with a triumphant air. Falling, the bag let out an eloquent metallic clink.

"…You are kidding," Adele muttered, staring at the purse.

"Nope," Neeshka grinned, her tail coiling up in pleased twines. "Two thousand golden coins, as shiny as the day they were born."

"Someone actually _bought_ all that rubbish we've collected on the way?"

"From _me_ – sure. I've told you I know money and how to get them. Even your yesterday's new friend put his nose low enough to buy some."

Adele snorted quietly at mention of Sand, a rather snobbish elven wizard who had tried to scry the silver shards the previous day.

"So, what are we up to next?" the tiefling swept the purse down on her knees and grinned again, always ready. For anything.

"Honestly? No idea. I need to get to the Blacklake District, and that suddenly turned out to be quite a challenge. And it is my only option in this whole shards mess so far," she tangled her fingers in her hair, idly rubbing the back of her head. "Guess I'll visit the Watch today, try to figure out if Cormick can help me. Maybe I could get a temporary permission for visit or something – after all, I need only to meet that sage. May even agree to go there under escort. Wouldn't they appreciate my position?"

It was Neeshka's turn to snort: "Yeah, you've never dealt with Neverwinter Watch, that's for sure."

"Still, I'll give it a try."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Do _you_?" Adele blinked at her, having presumed that the thief would hardly be thrilled with the idea of being nearby any buildings containing Watchmen inside.

Neeshka shrugged. "To show you directions and all that. Would be a nice change, _me _leading the way, not just tailing after you." Seeing Adele's grin, she rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold a return snicker. "No, I didn't mean a pun."

"I'll be fine. After all, Neverwinter is hardly larger than the Mere - so I won't get lost."

"Well then, best of luck! What else can I tell?" the tiefling turned round on the chair and rose to her feet. "It isn't… ah… oh."

Adele looked back to see already familiar large wolf, who was standing in Neeshka's way. It seemed as if he was just passing by, but the swaying of tiefling's tail caught his attention, and now he was studying Neeshka with kind of a hungry interest.

"Hey, shoo!" Neeshka commanded in a most firm way possible, but her voice quavered treacherously.

The wolf didn't move, but regarded her with a long disdainful glare, as if was offended by being treated like a dog. The tiefling gulped.

"Neesh, don't look him in the eyes," Adele stated cautiously.

She giggled nervously in respond: "Easy to say, you know. Who was that smart to let a beast like that into the city?"

"Speaking of yourself, eh, demon?" a cold voice drawled from the remote shadowed corner of the room.

Adele was startled to see Bishop there, for she hadn't even noticed him before. The ranger sprawled about in the chair, watching the tiefling with dry amusement, with one hand twiddling a dagger languidly.

_"What_ did you say?" Neeshka bristled.

"Bet you heard me," the ranger answered.

The dagger turned over in his fingers, then again, again…

The wolf suddenly crouched and growled, slowly baring his fangs.

"That's enough, Bishop!" Duncan moved forward from the counter. "Take him away."

"He's his own wolf, you know. Go ahead and try to yourself."

_Well, aren't we an ass…_

Duncan ground his teeth, frowning at the ranger. Bishop smirked and got up from the chair, sheathing his dagger.

"Drop _it_, Karnwyr. It'll cause you indigestion," the wolf sniffed in a way that reminded a suppressed chuckle and made his way towards his master. Bishop patted the nape of the wolf's neck and shoved him slightly to the door, following the animal himself. "Let's go and find you something more edible. It's not that hard."

"I heard that!" Neeshka snapped at his back.

"Don't," Adele placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's not worth it."

Again without even turning or looking at them Bishop snapped his fingers, as if making a point of something, and left the tavern.

Neeshka spun around on her heels, staring at Duncan indignantly: "And what was _that_?"

"That?" the half-elf grunted. "That was Bishop."

"Oh yeah? Is he one of local clerics or something?"

Adele chuckled, kind of pleased that her friend had the same reaction to the ranger's name.

"Well, that's what he calls himself," Duncan answered. "Local smuggler. Lives here, at my place."

_…Not exactly a lawful type, are you, Uncle?_

Neeshka scratched her pointed ear and shrugged: "Seems some shit of a customer to have around, no?"

"…It's a long story…" Duncan glumly tapped the counter with his fingers, as if thinking whether to tell the story or not – and apparently decided not to, shaking his head. "Nevermind."

"An' here comes the dwarf!" exclaimed Khelgar, stepping into the room from the corridor, adjusting his gloves. "Good mornin' ta ya all."

"Yeah, there you are," the tiefling folded her arms. "Not when we _need_ you!"

"An' what's the matter? S'meone attacked?"

"Exactly! Attacked me."

"Pfft, _you_," Khelgar snorted. "No surprise there, ya ain't nothin' but trouble. Who bothered, anyway?"

"No, it's nothing," Adele waved her hand dismissively, having no desire to encourage the dwarf for yet another fight. "Just a small… mess."

"Ah, what, had a mess without me? Bah!" Khelgar pulled at his beard. "Not fair there, lass."

Adele smiled sweetly: "I'm not the one to become a Tyr's monk, am I? What would I know about fairness?"

Khelgar grinned, poking a finger to her ribs: "Laughin' at ol' crazy dwarf, eh? Now I'll just go and visit those guys – then we'll see who's gonna laugh!"

"You're going… now?"

"Sooner the better! Goin' right into the Temple an' tellin' them they ain't gonna find another monk like me!"

Neeshka chortled: "Can't argue with that!" she turned to Adele and tapped her shoulder. "Good luck with the Watch again. I'll sneak around the city a little, see what I can find out."

Adele nodded, smiling slightly at the tiefling's enthusiasm. For now there was nothing to 'find out', but wasn't it a nice excuse for Neeshka to wander around Neverwinter? It was her home, after all. Home she's been away from for quite some time...

"Just be careful," she added after the tiefling.

"I was born careful!" Neeshka exclaimed, drawing up the hood of her cloak to cover her horns.

"Oh _sure_," Khelgar muttered into his beard, following her with his eyes as she left.

"Where's Elanee, by the way?" Adele looked up at Duncan. "Have you seen her today?"

"Elven lass? She came out for a little, then returned to her room. Said she had a headache in the city," Duncan sighed. "Where have you gathered all these guys, I wonder."

"No matter where, there aren't any left," she smiled at Khelgar. "Well, I'll be off then…"

* * *

It was a strange experience – returning to the Flagon with a City Watch cloak on. The mere looks on the faces of passers-by changed swiftly the moment they fell on her outfit. The guard near the pier – the one she had been asking for directions upon their arrival in Neverwinter – noticed her, blinked in surprise, but saluted mechanically. That made Adele smile, but she saluted in return nonetheless and made her way to the tavern, feeling his puzzled gaze at her back. Still smiling, she crossed the Flagon's terrace and entered.

Neeshka choked over, spitting out ale she was drinking back to the mug.

"Well, I'll be blessed!" she blurted out, regarding Adele with huge eyes. "Never thought 'going to the Watch' actually meant 'joining the Watch'!"

"Guess, it is now," Adele shook her head. "_That_ is the only chance to get into that thrice-damned Blacklake District. Prove my worth and get it as a reward. As if I want to settle there or something."

The tiefling grinned: "I didn't expect to get any friends from the Watch, that's for sure."

"Bah, I'd be glad ta have more friends from there," Khelgar grumbled, "as long as ones like ya a' around."

"Khelgar, watch your tongue, until it fell out to the floor and got stepped on!" Neeshka retorted.

"You just look at that," Duncan smiled almost proudly at Adele. "Two days in the city, and she is already a member of the Watch. That's worth of a celebration."

Adele groaned: "No, please, don't do that to me. I've got to go on patrol in two hours, I can't be drunk."

Khelgar laughed: "Then ya not drinkin'! Fill the glasses, Duncan!"

"…Sweet."

Neeshka ran up to her: "Can I come with you? I know I'll never get another chance to go patrolling!"

"I don't mind a company, as long as you don't get mixed up into something."

"Me? Why would I?" the tiefling clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, that's _too_ cool! I mean, you never know how's your life gonna turn!" she suddenly stopped, looking at Adele suspiciously. "You're not going to make me hand you over somebody, are you."

Adele couldn't help but laugh: "No. I'm definitely not going to wander about the Docks _looking_ for criminals. Were I that eager, I should have arrested that cleric-guy for smuggling," Duncan frowned at that uncomfortably, and the woman grinned. "So, until I don't bump into them on the street, the rascals of Neverwinter are safe, I guess."

"Oh, good," Neeshka turned to the counter. "Duncan, I'll have a drink too!"

"You spongers," the half-elf groused. "Fetch them some, Sal…"

* * *

It was getting dark when Adele was slowly making her way down the Docks. The wind, blowing from the gulf, seeped under her jerkin, making her shiver sometimes – but that was the only discomfort she faced so far. Neeshka seemed quite joyous, keeping step with Adele and looking around restlessly. Her cloak, protecting her from any glances too curious of her planar heritage, shifted slightly behind her, as her tail danced in rhythm with her anxiety.

"And are we going to make raids on some dens or something?" she inquired in a low voice. "To be honest, I was always kinda interested how it feels, to be on the other side."

"We'll have to eventually, I'm sure," Adele replied, keeping her eyes on a bunch of drunken sailors, obviously not locals.

"Hey, look, real Neverwinter patrol!" one of them exclaimed merrily.

"Where?" Neeshka stopped with a start.

"He means us," Adele smiled.

"Oh… Damn, need to get used to that."

"Have a fine shift!" the sailor shouted, waving a bottle. "Drop in later, we'll buy you a drink!"

Adele nodded evasively, moving on with Neeshka laughing quietly by her side: "What is it you are doing with men? I can't put my finger on it, really."

"Nothing, just tend to get into their field of vision when they are drunk."

The street led them to the pier, turning to the right, and they intended to follow – when suddenly Adele caught a sight of the familiar sergeant, surrounded by a gang of extremely suspicious characters. They couldn't have looked more suspicious even if they were carrying pikes with severed heads on them.

"We are not asking you to _do_ something, sergeant," one of them purred unctuously. "No, you are exactly _not_ to do anything – and for an amount of gold you won't be able to earn in a month."

"Seems like too big of a sum for such a trifle," the guard retorted, eyeing the men warily. "Why is that?"

"Because we respect you, sergeant. You do a great job here and get paid so miserably."

"Uh-oh," Neeshka flinched. "Guess, we've "bumped into" someone finally."

"Yeah, just my luck," Adele licked her lips, advancing the group. "Who are these people, sergeant?"

"That's what I'd like to know myself," he answered, still staring at the band morosely.

"Oh, we're nothing but humble travelers from Luskan," the leader smiled thinly. "Just arrived at your beautiful city, got stunned by the outstanding work of the City Watch…"

"…and decided to bribe it, huh?" Adele arched an eyebrow. "Nice and thoughtful of you."

The sergeant snorted inadvertently. The Luskan narrowed his eyes at them, then shook his head reproachfully: "It's very… unfortunate, really, that you've interpreted it that way. Very unfortunate," he turned to his companions. "Kill them and dispose of the bodies. Turned out to be not the way we've planned it, but still good to skin some of Neverwinter dregs…"

"Oh, that's great," Neeshka breathed out, stepping back and unsheathing her blades.

Luskans also drew out their weapons, when suddenly a known loud shout came from behind:

"Hey, some scums 're attacking our patrols!"

An ale mug flew right over Adele's shoulder, crashing into the head of one of attackers, and the next instant the Luskans were toppled over by the same drunken sailors Adele and Neeshka had encountered earlier. A few minutes – and the sea-folk were already kicking lifeless bodies, until Adele and the sergeant dragged them off.

"Thanks for the help, gentlemen," Adele soothed them. "Now why don't you find yourself some quiet place to have a drink and celebrate?"

"Always ready to help the Watch," one of the sailors grinned, " 'specially when one of them is such a beauty. Whatcha doing after the shift?"

"I'm busy, I'm afraid. But thanks for the offer anyway, I'll keep it in mind."

"Always welcome!" the sailor tried to salute, but swayed, and his fellows had to catch him and drag up the street, all roaring with laughter.

"Nice job-start," Neeshka pointed out, squatting down near the corpses.

"Bloody Luskans," the sergeant scowled. "Never tired of crawling into here, rats…" he looked up at Adele. "I'll report this… incident. Appreciate the help."

"Just doing my job," the woman shrugged, still smiling lightly.

"Have a quiet shift."

"…Hope to."

Still muttering something angrily, the sergeant proceeded to the headquarters. Adele followed him with a turn of head, then looked back at the bodies.

_Not two days here, and already someone's dead. Dammit… Why am I never any good at keeping myself out of such crap?_

She sighed, then blinked at Neeshka, who was busy emptying the pockets of Luskans.

"And what exactly are you doing, I wonder?"

"Ah, just checking. Maybe they happened to have some intervention-schedules on them or something…"

"Neesh…"

"Oh, no, there's nothing," she got up, shrugging with a look of innocent disappointment on her face. "Well, no harm in hoping, right?"

"You've just put a coin-purse to your hip-pocket."

"Huh? Did I? Oh, by force of habit, I guess…" she smiled sweetly. "Come on, Del, they are _Luskans_. Besides, they are dead. Not like they'll need their money… ever."

Adele sighed helplessly, looking at her and realizing what feelings parents must have, watching their children grow up not as well-behaved as was expected. She wanted to say something, when suddenly the dark sky got lightened by a blaze of fire, followed by some distant shouts.

_…Are you kidding me?_

"Seems to be near the Flagon," Neeshka said, puzzlement and worry equally colouring her voice.

"…Is it me or have all the trouble been waiting for Adele Farlong to join the Watch before decided to start happening?" she groaned, marching towards her uncle's tavern, followed by laughing Neeshka…


	3. III: Stirring The Flames

**III:** Stirring the Flames

Long after midnight her shift was finally over – luckily, without further incidents. The one with the sorceress girl, Qara, and her two classmates, who decided it was a good idea to shower each other with spells in the middle of the street, was the last, and she was able to settle it without bloodshed, shooing the two young mages to do their homework or whatever under the threat of their deaths. A nasty move, but after dealing with Luskans the newly-fledged watchman really had no wish to be drawn in some children's war that went as far as nearly torching the tavern she was staying at. She would have packed up and sent away all the three of them, but wasn't sure they wouldn't start the fight all over again just behind the corner. And when Adele had no personal interest in the winner, she always tended to stand on the side with fewer fighters - or, especially, one. Like against thugs threatening Khelgar outside the Weeping Willow Inn (actually, _trying_ to threaten and failing miserably). Like against soldiers of Fort Lock surrounding Neeshka…

Adele could never stand the sight of a crowd, even a small crowd, pecking a single victim. It reminded her of vultures.

She was glad not to be the only one – as Elanee joined them in yet another fight against the githyanki, unable to watch them being ambushed.

Not to mention that it was obviously easier to scare off two apprentices than their redhead rival. Adele couldn't help but respect, really, how Qara managed to remain self-confident in front of wizard-girls. More than that, Adele really believed that the sorceress would have come out of that fight victorious. The girl even made her best to save face as she was made to work off the damage she caused to the 'Sunken Flagon'. Went too far in that, maybe, but then again, she was a child, fourteen or fifteen years old, as far as Adele could tell. What else could be expected?

To some extend, it wasn't, perhaps, the smartest decision on Duncan's part to keep a kindle like that around, but it seemed way more palatable than letting Qara wander the Docks. She would have probably ended destroying something or somebody - or getting herself destroyed. Not pretty in both cases.

_Excusing ourselves, are we?_

_And who can blame me?_

Smirking to herself, Adele hooded her eyes, sitting deep in the chair, allowing her body to relax – and, maybe, to ease a little the slight dull pain in her ribs, just beneath an old ugly scar under her left breast she had had since her early childhood. The pain appeared every time Adele exerted herself too much.

Despite the late hour, all of her companions were still awake. Neeshka and Khelgar had already occupied the counter, drinking and arguing as usual. They were both rather short-tempered, but, it seemed, were lucky to finally find a decent opponent in each other. Even Elanee, pale and somewhat exhausted, had left her room and made herself comfortable on a sofa, almost curled up there, watching the fire thoughtfully.

Adele rubbed her scar through the clothes absentmindedly, wincing a bit, until she caught a glimpse of Duncan's alarmed stare. Smiling, she shook her head to let him know she was fine.

After all, she got used to that chronic ache long time ago.

Qara was cleaning the tables – or rather was doing something she herself thought to be "cleaning tables". Mostly it included dragging a rag from one corner of the table to the other with such disgust, as if she was holding not a rag but a dead rat. Her staff rested against the chair, and the sorceress was constantly flinging her eyes at it, probably savouring the thought of drying the tables with magic fire.

"I'll need a year's long bath after that," she muttered, studying her delicate white fingers. "What were you doing on these tables? Roasting pigs or something?"

"Don't shirk, dearie," Duncan raised his voice.

Qara wrinkled her nose, but clutched the corner of the rag, pulling it closer loathingly. Duncan watched her for some time, then shook his head in tired disapproval, turned away… and suddenly stooped down, pulled off his boot and threw it to the far corner: "Ah, not rats again!"

"That's _not_ a rat, you dolt!" Qara shouted, dashing towards the corner. "Come here, Tamin."

To the sound of her voice a weasel peeped out of the corner, rushed to the girl, climbed up her breech-leg, lurked under the hem of her long silk shirt – and in a moment the black beads of his eyes were glittering from under her collar.

"Oh, a thousand apologies," Duncan retorted sarcastically. "Made a zoo out of the tavern."

"Shut up," Qara grimaced, returning to the table, and stopped, glaring at the rug.

_Hating, but still doing what needs to be done… Honestly, that's quite a change from usual brats._

Adele shifted a little, sinking deeper into the chair, and nearly closed her eyes completely, again enjoying the calm feeling of 'home' that overwhelmed her, feeling that consisted from the distant noises of the tavern, warm smells and air, voices of her companions…

Yes, it was mostly because of voices…

Elanee had asked her once, whether it was hard for her to leave West Harbour, her home. She remembered answering, that 'home' for her was people, not a place.

And again she felt, how true it was.

These people, her companions, became her family - for now or for much longer, she couldn't tell. But she had already got so much used to their arguing, to the mere _sound_ of them - Khelgar's loud grumbling voice, his infectious laughter, Neeshka's twitter-like speech twining it's way into it, Elanee's rare remarks and advices, soft and measured, but always there for hearing when one needed them... Adele looked at the druidess, silent and abstracted, as usual, deep within her own thoughts and worries. Adele knew perfectly well how bad the elf felt herself in the city – but Elanee clearly was ready to tolerate anything, as long as it helped her to get some answers to the questions and problems, threatening her land.

Feeling her gaze, Elanee looked back at her, raising her eyebrows a bit in a silent question.

"How are you?" Adele asked softly.

The elf gave her a calm faint smile: "Better already. At least, don't feel like I've been struck in the head anymore."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"A little," she closed her eyes, as if to concentrate on her feelings, then smiled weakly again. "Don't worry, I'll be fine… eventually."

The druidess' weakness would have seemed rather strange, probably - to someone else. But Adele remembered all to well how she herself had nearly fainted at the edge of the Mere, stepping out into the world outside for the first time in her life. She had choked over the _air_, simple air, too rarefied and thin for her after the heavy moist atmosphere of the swamp. Not the most pleasant sensation, especially for the one who sometimes had problems breathing at all.

At that moment Khelgar gave out a loud laughter: "Ya call that 'n insult, goat-girl? Even the tree-worshipper could scrape up somethin' better than that!"

"'Goat-girl'?" Neeshka snorted. "Yeah, I've definitely never heard _that_ one before, stumpy."

"Heh! Ya ain't even tryin'! We Ironfists call ar own children 'stumpy'! Ya skinny… bull," the dwarf grimaced, disgusted himself by his own apparent failure.

Adele chuckled quietly: "They always know how to entertain themselves."

Elanee sighed in agreement.

Neeshka grinned: "'Skinny bull'? That doesn't even make any sense! Go back to your drinking, moss-breath."

…_Yeah, they definitely need some fresh blood to their __wrangles. They've been insulting each other for so long that must have run out of words._

Qara, who was standing with her back to the counter and probably listening to the contest for some kind of distraction from the tables, rolled her eyes expressively and muttered, almost to herself: "Amateurs."

Neeshka's red eyes widened indignantly, and Adele did her best to hold back a laugh.

_And here it comes…_

"Amateurs?" the tiefling nudged the dwarf. "Why, the spoilt princess thinks she's better than us, Khelgar!"

" 's that so?" Khelgar turned around on his bar-stool, watching Qara with challenge. "A bold claim for 'n Academy drop-out, seems ta me."

Qara smirked, continuing to scrape the table: "You two wouldn't know an insult if it walked up and bit you."

"Well then," Neeshka folded her arms. "Why don't _you_ show us how it's done, firehair."

_Ah, and here our eternal enemies rise and make a stand together against new threat_.

Adele listened to their now-trio bicker, biting her lip hard not to giggle. Exchanging quick glances with Elanee, she noticed the druidess to hide a smile as well while still watching the fire.

_Gods, I love you, guys_.

At last, defeated, Khelgar waved Qara off, turning back to his ale and trying to ignore Neeshka's snickering: "Wow. Fat-belly little knee-high! That's good!"

"Shut up, tail-for-brains," the dwarf grunted and shook his head in disbelief. "An' here I thought mages have nothing to offer the world. Duncan, another round!"

"Get your drink yourself, dwarf!" the half-elf snapped back. "Seeing as how you haven't even _tried_ to pay for a single drop yet!"

"A-ha!" Khelgar's face broke into a wide smile. " 've been wonderin' when ya'd give in already an' grant me free reign over yer kegs! Anyone else want anything?"

"Little free-loader," Duncan shot a glance at Qara. "And why don't you try to clean those tables with your tongue, since you are so good with it?"

"Don't try me," the sorceress replied, measuring the rag with another hating glare.

Behind Adele's back the door suddenly creaked, followed by a faint smell of woods and clacking of wolf's claws…

…and the woman sighed.

…_By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…_

Again without even pausing, Bishop brushed past the tables and chairs towards the rooms, on his way swiftly scanning the room with his piercing glance, which rested on Qara for a second, before fixing at the barkeeper as usually – as if Duncan was the only person worthy of the ranger's attention: "Well now, Duncan, seems we've got a new waitress at the place. It's about time."

Qara jerked at the slight innuendo that exuded in Bishop's words, and slowly drew herself up, almost torching the ranger to ashes with her glare.

"You wish," she hissed.

The ranger stopped for a moment, appraised her lean frame with a strange look on his face – as if he was going to smile, but changed his mind at the last moment – and shook his head: "Sorry, tot. Took you for a _girl_."

The sorceress' jaw dropped. Khelgar burst out laughing, almost falling off his chair: "That was good! Duncan, fill one tankard for the lanky too!"

"Ah, I don't drink…" Bishop drawled, resuming his way to the rooms. The wolf was already waiting for his master to catch up, "…with dwarves."

"Yer loss!" Khelgar exclaimed, lifting a mug and bottoming it.

"Cool down!" Duncan, almost scared, shouted to Qara, seeing an infuriated flush covering the girl's face. "You'll never work off if you burn down anything else!"

"Next time I'll burn down _you_, you smelly drunk!" she snapped back.

"Well, guess it's better to go to sleep now," Adele concluded, rising from the chair.

"Yes, it _is_ better," Elanee agreed with a slight patient smile…

* * *

She didn't get much sleep though - the pain in her chest didn't wear off. Adele just tossed and turned in her bed till early morning, until she got tired of it and got up.

The Flagon was almost silent. Duncan closed the tavern for a couple of hours in the morning to clean up all the mess left after the night. Adele found her uncle still in the room, where he and Sal were sorting out numerous empty glasses. Some more assistants were tidying the place up. Qara arrogantly watched the process, standing aside. Her weasel made himself comfortable on her shoulder, casting around furtive glances.

As Adele approached her, the girl threw her a short glare, then squared her shoulders and looked away, pointedly ignoring her. The woman smirked. She couldn't help it, but the little redhead was… a curious one.

…Or were those simply the memories of another sorceress, that still caused a lump to form somewhere deep in her throat.

"I have a break," Qara stated frigidly, taking Adele's inquiring gaze as an accusing one.

"Yeah, notice the difference," Duncan added. "Honestly, dearie, you are as helpful as a corpse."

"Oh, go to Hells," Qara snorted.

"Did you take any rest?" Adele wondered.

"I don't need to. I don't get tired."

"Because it's hardly like you _do_ something," the half-elf grumbled.

"I've warned you!"

Adele smirked: "Something _really_ terrible must have happened to you to bring you to the Docks."

Qara arched her brow: "Like you care? If I didn't almost burn down your uncle's damned clinch-house I wouldn't even _be_ here."

"Hey!" Duncan exclaimed crossly, but the girl just winced:

"Oh, stow it, you drunk."

"You need to improve your manners, dearie, that's for sure."

"Don't patronize me! I say what I want. You don't like it – shove off."

Adele couldn't fight back another smirk: "Now I can see why you had problems at the Academy."

Qara snorted in disdain: "Problems? _I_ didn't have any problems with them – _they_ said to have problems with me. My only problem was that I didn't want to learn what I already knew. And if I had to page through one more dusty tome…" she rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

"Well, if it was that easy for you, could have played along a little."

"Why? To waste my youth and talent, trapped in there with some hopeless blockheads, who can't even levitate a fork at first try?" she shrugged dismissively, giving a scratch to Tamin's belly, when the weasel nuzzled into her neck. "I don't need that. I know more about magic that they _ever_ will! I mean, I _know_ what power feels like rushing through me – they've barely learnt how to get close to it!" her pale-green eyes widened, exited flush blossomed on high chiseled cheekbones, delicate fingers run anxiously through her short red hair – and Adele suddenly felt that it was somehow getting much _warmer_ near the girl. "It's like this… shiver that starts spreading through you… A warmth… like it's coming from your heart _and_ your head – all at once! And you feel that warmth getting hot… so much so you think you can burn anything in your path… yet _you'_ll be only be brushed by it! I… I can't even explain it! But trust me, I _know_."

"Well…" Adele stepped aside a little, almost unwittingly. Arcane was never her strong point. Tarmas, the wizard back at her home village, had more than once mentioned, that he had rarely met someone so utterly dead from the neck up when it came to magic. "Seeing as that power is a part of _you _– guess you are the best to know how to control it."

"That's the point! I _know_!" a gentle warm wind coming from nowhere suddenly stirred up her hair. "And I don't need everybody telling me when and where and how I should do it!"

"You'd better get back to work," Duncan reminded her.

Qara spun around on her heels, impaling the half-elf with her glare and clutching at her staff – and Adele felt really worried for her uncle's well-being.

"I think she could use some rest," Adele stated, cautiously touching Qara's elbow. "You know, take a walk, catch a breath of fresh air…"

"I'm fine!" the girl bristled.

Adele lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper: "Don't you want to get away from those tables for a while?"

The sorceress blinked in surprise: "Oh…" she settled down a bit and shifted her shoulder in false indifference. "Yeah, I might."

"Agreed then," Adele smiled and nodded to Duncan. "We'll be back soon."

Duncan hesitated for a moment, but gave up with a smile: "Fine. Like I can refuse something to my only niece."

Smiling a bit broader, Adele took Qara by the arm and hurried her out of the tavern.

"Thanks," the sorceress said, still looking taken aback. "Really, I mean it. Several moments more with a rag in my hands – and somebody would have got hurt, I swear."

"Never mind," the woman waved it off, keeping the smile in place. Agitating the girl was no way near what she needed. Making her a bit comfortable with her duties was more in the line. After all, even if githyanki never showed their faces in Neverwinter and 'Sunken Flagon', it didn't mean that they wouldn't do that in the future. And if (or when) that happened, she would prefer someone as powerful as Qara to be around and put her spells to good use.

"So, what do we do? I hope you are not dragging me to one of your patrols or something."

"No, nothing like that. Besides, it's too early for work," Adele looked up and down the street thoughtfully, then stopped her attention on Sand's shop just across the road. "Let us pay a visit to an acquaintance, see if he had heard something new about the Blacklake."

"Ah, yes. I heard it was locked down just after… I left. Oh well, serves them right. Nothing special there, boring as Hells," she stroked Tamin, peeking out from under her collar again.

"Sweet little guy," Adele smiled at the weasel. "For how long do you keep him?"

"Two years. At the Academy they made everybody keep a pet. You know, a familiar of a spell-caster and all that."

"Yeah. My friend has… had a bat," Adele's voice dropped at the mention of Amie.

"A bat," Qara hummed approvingly. "Better then some stupid owl or something, when you can make it fly only by a good-aimed kick. So I've got Tamin. He has more brains then most of the students had. Besides, he can feed himself."

"That's definitely an advantage," Adele grinned. "Seems like the Academy was truly a place to remember."

"Oh, don't even remind me. Have _you_ studied anywhere?"

"No, actually, nowhere."

"There you go! So what, are you feeling lack of knowledge or something? I bet not."

"No," Adele agreed, looking into space…

…_**sweat and heat and sparkles falling as her rapier clashe**__**s against the sword… **_

…_**a tang of sharp pain in her cut arm makes her grit her teeth…**_

…_**a cold indifferent voice pointing out: "You are hurt. Your mistake"**_

"_**I'm tired"**_

"_**No, you are not" **_

"_**I am!"**_

"_**Not tired enough to correct your mistake"**_

…_**she gasps helplessly, parrying his attacks: "Sometimes I hate you, Father"**_

…_**incisive icy eyes of pure emerald: "Then prove it"**_

"…I was taught… by experience."

"And it _is_ the best teacher," Qara smiled. "Gods, am I finally speaking with someone with some sense? I can't even believe it."

The two of them (actually, the three of them including Tamin) entered the shop and found themselves in a relatively small room filled with shelves, tables, benches and bookcases. Qara regarded them with a disdainful gaze, running her fingertips over her staff absentmindedly. It occurred to Adele that it would take years and years to look through all the abundance of bottles, phials, scrolls, amulets, powders and other magical stuff displayed for sale. She was so dazzled that almost mistook a spotty cat sprawled on one of the shelves for another piece of magical arsenal.

Among all the diversity it was not an easy task to find the owner – but finally they managed to discover Sand in the far corner of his shop. The elf was sitting behind the table, inscribing one of the potion-bottles phlegmatically. Interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps, he lifted his eyes and raised his thin brows in slight surprise:

"Welcome, Adele. How may I…?" his gaze swept towards Qara, slid down her staff, and a barely visible smile seemed to appear in the corners of the elf's lips. "Oh, why, you've brought a visitor from the Academy, I see."

"I'm not _with_ the Academy," Qara objected immediately. "I left."

"Studies too strenuous, hmm?" he asked almost sympathetically – but somehow his elusive smile made it hard to believe his sympathy.

The girl sniffed: "I didn't need to study. I already knew how to do magic."

"Ah… A sorceress, aren't you? A natural one," he clicked his tongue. "Well then, it's good it was your free _choice_ to leave. Usually the students are not so fortunate as being _offered_ one."

Qara's eyes narrowed:

"Who is this elf?" she asked Adele, not even bothering to lower her voice. "He's got a smart mouth for a simple merchant. Better watch it – or I'll burn this shop of his down."

"If you make up your mind to _try_ to do so," Sand replied calmly, "you'll find the place will draw your energy out from you, until you lie quivering on the floor. It is Vanteen's Syphon – of course, _if_ you are familiar with the historical codex bearing his name."

"I'm not. And neither care, for that matter."

"Figured that much… Then I strongly recommend you to hold your threats until you do," he looked back at Adele. "Now, what can I do for you today?"

"Is there a problem?" Adele wondered, gesturing towards Qara, who began to examine the range of goods with almost palatable disregard.

"No, no problem at all," Sand smiled thinly. "I'm certainly not the one to speak ill of anyone present."

"Oh, please, don't stop on _my_ account," Qara sneered at him. "I'd hate to think you couldn't say whatever you need to say to my face."

"No, really, it's not worth a copper coin to go into," Sand stated serenely, following Qara with his eyes. "Let us just say we have… academic differences. So how can I help you, _finally_?"

Adele shrugged: "Actually, I was wondering if you've heard anything new about the murders. Not that I learned much in the Watch…"

"I'm afraid I cannot be of any notable help either," the wizard sighed. "Well, I know that the District is still closed – so it is obvious that the investigation is either in full blossom or reached a deadlock. Please, girl, be careful there!" he hail Qara. "_Especially_ with the red beaker."

Qara rewarded him with another haughty snort, stepping away from the shelf.

"So, as I said," the elf smiled at Adele, as if nothing happened, "no clues still of what is going on in the District. Considering there are rumors of demon involvement, I wouldn't be even slightly surprised by the feebleness of the Nine or Many-Starred Cloak mages. A murderer who can muster infernal powers is way ahead of their potential."

"Encouraging," Adele chuckled. "Why do I have a feeling that I'll get mixed up in it somehow?"

"Why, indeed?" Sand drawled, watching her closely. That didn't unsettle her, for from the first time she had met the wizard, she got an impression that under the veil of his detached dismissive indifference he _was_ actually interested in the whole story she got into.

"Don't know," she shrugged as casually as she could. "Seeing how I was said to give a good account of myself to earn a pass to the District, suppose they'll just get that pass for me by making me join the investigation or something."

"Well, no pain no gain, as they say," he stopped suddenly at the sound of the shop door being opened and looked somewhere over Adele's shoulder. His smile suddenly became colder, as he said: "Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies, I've got a customer."

"Oh, sure. Thanks for your time," Adele waved to Qara, and they went right by a tall blond man, who entered the room and was standing aside, clearly waiting for them to leave.

"What's the point of closing down an entire District because of some lousy murder?" Qara wondered as they were walking back to the Flagon. "I mean, people get killed every day – nobody's usually running around closing streets because of it."

"You said it," Adele shook her head. "But those people who get killed every day are no nobles. And plus, there's a thing of _how_ those nobles were murdered."

"Ah, the Hells with them," the sorceress grinned darkly. "And for the note – _I_ wasn't even there. But still the Academy instructors liked to blame me for _everything _happening around."

Adele chuckled: "Get easy on them. People just _need_ to blame somebody."


	4. IV: Look Who Lives In The Mountains 1

IV: Look Who Lives in the Mountains (part one)

"I say we camp," Khelgar grumbled, sitting on the horse behind Adele. "Got ma guts jolted on this mare already. An' it's getting dark."

"I second that!" Neeshka added. The tiefling only recently managed to calm down the horse – not without Elanee's help – as the animal was pretty nervous about an actual half-demon on its back. "And I feel like having a bite."

The road they took had finally made it to the mountains, became narrow and winding and absolutely empty. Rare gnarled trees on each side of it were the best proof of apparent water problems in Sword Mountains.

Not that Adele cared for that too much. She just wanted to find the missing Waterdeep emissary she was sent to find and be done with it. Her Watch service was definitely getting much longer than she expected. Much longer and much bloodier.

Moreover, they made her lieutenant.

They really did.

It had happened a while ago already, but Adele still felt somewhat dumbstruck by the fact. Here she was, doing some common Watch job, wasn't even able to prevent the fire, that burnt down the Docks' headquarters (Qara was actually prepared to get accused for that too, but somehow she was fortunate this time) – and they made her lieutenant. Surely, she took care of Moire, which probably made a lot of lives safer _(...and, I'll bet, easier even for other thugs_) – but it definitely wasn't anything someone else couldn't have done. That made Adele wonder if all other Watchmen were usually spending their shifts just sitting on their ass and playing cards – seeing as how _she_ was the one to get promotion.

Then again, according to Cormick and Brelaina's talks and moods, that could be exactly the case.

But still no luck with getting access to Blacklake District. And the hope of getting it any time soon was slowly dissolving, as she appeared too handy for the Watch. Like a personal mercenary.

As she was heading to Sword Mountains, Adele almost felt like praying to some – _any_ – god that will bother to listen, to spare her from all the killings on behalf of Neverwinter that no doubt were yet to come before she is over with all this story.

Almost.

"Camping sounds good," Adele agreed, reining her horse back. "Besides I have a bad feeling that we took the wrong turn to that Old Bowl Well."

"…Old _Owl_ Well it is, I believe," Elanee muttered thoughtfully. The druidess was quiet lately (well, even quieter than usual) – thanks to the trip to Skymirror that had left her dispirited.

"It can be Bold Towel Yell for all I care," Adele replied, making Neeshka and Qara snicker. "Just want to get there and out as soon as possible." She glanced around in a futile hope that somehow she'll manage to tell the right way from the wrong one, then sighed and turned to the druidess.

Noticing her questioning stare, Elanee shook her head. "Don't look at me. These trees are so old and dried from the inside - they cannot tell _themselves _where they are."

"Great," Qara concluded with her usual sarcasm, grim and gleeful at the same time. "So what, trees can have senile marasmus, too?"

"Don't ya worry, lasses," Khelgar answered and jumped off the horse, raising a small cloud of rock dust as he landed. "Ya won't get lost in the mountains with the dwarf."

"Funny," Neeshka rolled her eyes. "Seeing that we already _are_."

Despite herself, Adele smiled silently, reaching the back of her head, pulling off a wattled leather bracelet she used as a fillet and tousling her hair wearily. She was not happy with the idea of dragging her friends to the mountains on this "go there I don't know where, find that I don't know what" mission, but all her attempts to keep them away from her work and troubles had failed miserably the moment Khelgar heard the word "orcs". Neeshka didn't really care for where they were going – as long as they were going together. Elanee jumped on the opportunity to get a distraction from the city, and Qara wasn't to miss another chance to get away from cleaning the tables and serving drinks in the Flagon.

So… here they were – wherever that "here" was.

Leaving Elanee to feed and soothe the horses, Adele spent some time just wandering around their make-shift camp to limber up her stiffened legs and spine. Neeshka began to unpack their saddle-bags - crammed full by Duncan, but visibly growing thinner as their journey continued. Khelgar cut down a few dry snags that pretended to be trees, pulled out a bundle of thorny scrubs and piled it all up on a flat stone to make fire. Neeshka started to look for a flint, but Qara just measured her with an insolent stare, snapped her fingers – and the firewood blazed up.

The light from the campfire diluted the darkness a bit. Stars twinkled above the coal-black skyline of mountains; the wind was howling somewhere in the distance, but never made its way down in a small valley they chose for their camp. Everyone felt a little uneasy about the fact that there might be orcs gadding about – everyone but Khelgar, of course – but still the travelers managed to relax after a long day.

Adele was already on her way to the others, occupied with arguing about who was going to take the first shift – when suddenly the woman was stopped by barely noticeable movement and quiet mumblings in the high bushes to her right. She froze and cast a sidelong look at her companions who apparently also picked up a strange noise and fell into silence. Unsheathing her rapier, Adele took a step toward the bushes and warily moved away some branches…

…and lowered her blade, looking in wide-eyed astonishment at a skinny shaggy gnome, who was jumping from one foot to the other with his back to the woman.

"And this here is whitethistle. Can give you the runs, you know," he explained – seemingly to himself - staring at the bushes tensely. "Wish I could think of a suitable rhyme to it…"

Probably from a great mind exertion he suddenly spun round on his heels and stopped stock-still, looking at Adele with his huge light eyes.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a radiant smile. "Well met, miss! Sorry, didn't even see you standing there. Thought you might be a Wendersnaven at first, but… I can see you, so I guess that discounts that."

Adele blinked: "Wender-what?"

"Wendersnaven," the gnome repeated and nodded expertly. "It doesn't roll off the tongue too easily, so don't worry. Don't say it too loudly if you're not sure though - they may take offence."

"Look at that," Qara muttered. "And here I thought Khelgar had problems."

"What 're ya talkin' about?" the dwarf bridled up. "This gnome's _mad_!"

Hearing their voices the gnome in question peeped out from the bushes, smiled broadly and walked towards the fire with vigorous strides.

"My, what a picturesque company you have here!" he took a seat near the dwarf. "And I thought I'll camp out here alone, play a tune or three, see if I can catch the attention of Wendersnavens… No luck though, but luck is what you make it, so I've been working hard," he took a flask out of the hand of Khelgar, who was too stunned to react, and took a sip, beaming again. "Oh, but where are my manners! I'm Grobnar Gnomehands, pleasure to meet you all! Do you happen to know any songs or tales? I collect them. Quite a collector, and maker, and teller of tales I am. Working on a tale myself, you know, and the act of composing - it is a tale in itself!"

"Wait a moment," Neeshka muttered mistrustfully. "You are a _bard_?"

"Indeed! I, Grobnar, am a philosopher, a poet, a cataloguer of flora, fauna, and all things wild and all things mechanical. And I can give it rhythm," without even looking, he returned now-empty flask to Khelgar, who was regarding Grobnar with dismal glare. "It really helps to write poems and songs, you know. But of course it all starts with a tune…" he looked around, "...say, about that bush, or that root, or that cloud, or that boot..."

* * *

"...and then, after I had welded the spring-mounted mechanical shield to my codpiece, I fired it - only to be thrown back almost thirty yards right into a wall! Stung quite a bit, I'll say that much, but what I learned was... was…" Grobnar fell silent.

Adele jerked her head up from her bended knees, waking up, and ran her blurry gaze over their camp. The sun was already up, and its rays were rolling down mountainsides, filling the valley. Her companions were sleeping around the extinct campfire, only Grobnar was sitting in exactly the same pose she left him in.

"Well," he concluded, staring into space. "I must say, all that discussion has really built up a hunger. Lost all track of time."

"Mmm…" Adele rubbed her face. "What… what happened?"

"Oh, nothing, miss," Grobnar waved his hand, reaching into his pack for a hunch of bread. "You were listening so intently that you closed your eyes and even put your head down on your knees. Made some funny laughing noises at the right times too - almost thought you were snoring. No trouble, really, I can understand that! I myself barely notice the world around once I get carried away by a story. If closing your eyes helps you concentrate – by all means! I knew this mage once who…"

"Oh gods," Neeshka groaned, opening her eyes and seeing that the gnome keeps talking. "He's not finished with that codpiece story yet?"

"Ah! Thanks for reminding me!" Grobnar cheered. "Where was I?"

"…shit…"

"So - I was walking bow-legged for a week! And it just so happens that I…" he paused, noticing others get to their feet, and shrugged. "But we can talk about it on the way."

The five of them exchanged cautious glances.

"…On _our_ way?" Neeshka finally managed.

"Yup," the gnome presented them with another shining smile. "Well, wherever you are going."

"You want to come with us?" Elanee clarified, giving Grobnar one last chance to dispel apprehensions.

"Yup. Why not?"

"I'll kill myself," Qara promised grimly.

Adele cast a glance at Grobnar who was already busy with packing and cleared her throat: "Look, just… Can you tell us if this road leads to Bold… er… Old Owl Well?"

"No, it doesn't, actually," the gnome answered, jumping in attempt to fling a saddle-bag on the horse. His fair hair was standing on end and made him look like a live loony dandelion.

"…And which one does?"

He thought for a second, then swung round and pursed his lips:

"Let's see… if the sun is _there_… and I'm _here_… and that cliff… Upon the whole I've no idea. And by that I mean – yes, I have one. It's just hard to explain. But I can show you."

Adele sighed, looking at her friends: "Guess we have no choice then… He _is_ coming with us."

"Oh, excellent!" Grobnar beamed. "You won't regret this, I promise! Well, too many times, that is…"

* * *

"Aaaaand here we are!" Grobnar exclaimed.

Adele strained her eyes, trying to ignore the bright sunlight hurting them a bit, and saw outlines of an unfinished stone wall on the horizon, swarmed by people. Spurring up their horses they finally reached the Greycloaks camp, located in the ruins of some settlement – a small village, perhaps. And indeed, in the middle there was a large well, after which the place was probably called.

"This is the Well of Owls," Grobnar smiled. "…Or whatever it is called."

"Thought out a couple of names ourselves already," Neeshka grinned, jumping off the horse.

Adele also dismounted from her horse, sliding her gaze around the camp, numerous dusty tents and scurrying soldiers, who seemed to be much more interested in constructing the wall than bothering with the newcomers. A watchmen merely glanced at the seal dangling on the roll of official papers Adele had, made sure that, no, neither her nor any of her companions were orcs, and settled with that.

"What a dump," Qara murmured loftily and cast a sidelong look at Adele. "Your name for the place was more suitable, I guess – one has to yell for towels here, that's for sure. Don't even want to ask where they wash themselves."

"True warriors don't worry 'bout such trifles!" Khelgar stated.

The girl eyed him with distaste: "…Obviously."

"I'll stable the horses," Elanee volunteered, apparently wanting to avoid listening to another squabble, and stroked the bay forehead of her mare lovingly.

"Thanks," Adele smiled at the druidess and looked around. "Alright, money-prize to the one who'll find the guy in charge here."

"How much exactly?" Neeshka inquired.

"I want those walls up by evening, no excuses!" a harsh commanding voice came from somewhere behind the fortifications. "The orcs aren't going to stop attacking just because we need to catch our breath."

"Too late, I win," Adele grinned, heading towards the voice.

Unlike Qara, she felt at ease among the plain setting of a military camp - it reminded her of West Harbor's militia training grounds. Gliding effortlessly between tents, building sites and omnipresent Greycloaks, she found a stocky fair-bearded dwarf taking apart one of the 'Cloaks. Despite the fact that the man was actually twice taller than the dwarf, the latter managed to hang over the guy – at least psychologically.

"Sir," the Greycloack tried to make excuses, "the men are having a hard time finding the materials…"

The dwarf narrowed his eyes, cutting off all further words the Greycloak could have come up with:

"You're telling me they can't find any _stones_?" he wondered. "We're in the middle of the blasted mountains! Unless _you_'d like to report to Nasher that we're overrun because we couldn't find rocks, I suggest you drive some sense into your men and get that wall built. Now."

"Yessir," the man saluted, looking as if he had hard time keeping himself from running. "I'll see to it, sir."

"I swear I've lost years off my life trying to get this rabble fit for service," the dwarf grumbled, following the retreating Cloak with his eyes, then noticed Adele and furred an eyebrow perplexedly. "And who are _you_ supposed to be? Reinforcements?"

"I'm looking for the one in charge," Adele answered simply.

"Well, you've found him," he nodded. "I'm Callum. Commander Callum. Sent here to secure the Old Owl Well. And unless _you_ are here to give me some help, then I don't have time for you, beg your pardon."

"Lieutenant Farlong, sir," Adele said, matching his pragmatic tone. "Sent to escort the Waterdeep emissary back to Neverwinter."

"Issani? He hasn't arrived yet."

_And why am I not surprised?_

Callum inspected the woman once again:

"City Watch, aren't you? I was informed of your arrival, hoped to have some better news for you. My best scout is out there right now, trying to find any sign of the emissary. As soon as I hear something, you'll be the first to know," he shot a glance at her companions and looked at Adele again, presuming she was the leader of the band. For some reason everyone they met presumed that. "And I'm expecting you all not to sit around, but actually help us against the orcs if needed…"

Before he could even finish the sentence, a loud tolling of a bell came from the nearest watchtower. Callum grunted:

"Now, wouldn't you know it! Were they eavesdropping on us or what?" he drew his weapon, raising his voice: "Greycloaks, to arms! For Neverwinter!"

About half a dozen of orcs rushed into the camp, but were dispatched by the defenders so easily that the fighters barely paid attention to them, quickly returning to their duties. Evidently, such attacks were an everyday routine around here.

"Another raiding party," Callum explained, giving a mild kick to the nearest stinking corpse. The dead orc was baring his teeth dully at the empty sky. "We're lucky to haven't been attacked in full force," he sighed, raising his head and looking at the horizon. "Wish I knew who it is out there keeping the orcs distracted."

"Someone else is fighting the orcs in these mountains?" Adele asked, almost surprised.

"Yes. Someone out there gathered a group of locals, appeared to be some sort of a guerilla band. He and his men have been attacking orc patrols for some time already; give us a chance to rebuild our defenses."

"Then he is among the good guys," Adele shrugged.

"…Yes," Callum drawled uncertainly and shook his head. "I don't know. I've been at this long enough to learn you need to control the battlefield to win. And this unknown friend of mine I can't control."

"But you still get help, even if uncontrollable."

"Count my blessings and all that, huh? But I've learned to be suspicious of gifts until I know who the benefactor is."

"Why don't you just get in touch with him then?"

"Eh, that's the problem. He's not the one for talking. Every time I send someone to contact him, he and his men move their camp. The orcs call him "Katalmach". They say he attacks without warning… and without regard for his enemies' numbers."

"'Katalmach'?" Khelgar combed his beard thoughtfully. "That's not a name orcs give lightly, ya know… That's the name they give to warriors who lose themselves in battle."

"It is odd that even orc trackers couldn't find him," Elanee pointed out. "Or that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region."

_Oh great, some mad berserker in the mountains – just what I need to make my day._

"Still, it's kinda stupid not to play the odds," Neeshka remarked. "Someone like that doesn't last very long," she tarried for a bit, and then smiled. "Well, except us, it seems."

"Maybe this Kettle-head person simply lacks basic maths skills," Grobnar suggested. "I mean, for example, if we were to face three hundred orcs, the odds… well if you carry the two... might be..." he fell silent, looking at the sky and moving his lips mutely, counting in his mind.

"In any case, sounds like someone who simply wants to die to me," Callum inferred. "If we weren't here, it only be a matter of time before all the tribes in the Well hunted down this… Katalmach – and put an end to his crusade. Well, the Hells with him for now. I have enough on my hands already with…"

"Commander Callum!" shouted a guard on the watchtower. "Scout returning!"

"Ah, good," Callum smiled briefly at Adele. "Let's hope he brings news on the emissary."

A young man covered with sweat and dirt ran up to the dwarf and saluted mechanically, trying to catch his breath: "Sir…"

"William," Callum nodded. "Did you locate emissary Issani?"

"No, sir. But I came across his escorts. Killed to the last men, but no signs of the emissary," he took a huge gulp from his water skin and dried his lips. "Orcs, sir. They must've got him."

"Great," Callum grunted and looked at Adele. "Well, seems you've got a new assignment."

_Uh-huh, tah-dah and all that__…_

Adele sighed: "Any ideas who could have taken Issani?"

"I'd say Logram Eyegouger's clan – it is the biggest one. Logram is the one to organize orcs in the region – and to plan the assaults on the Well. Wish we could reach him and put an arrow through his scull. If we could, the orcs would have turned on each others in a heartbeat. But since we have no idea where his lair is…" Callum shrugged. "If I were you, I'd start looking at the Bonegnasher lair, northeast of here. Their leader, Yaisog Bonegnasher, is old and smart enough to make a deal…" he grinned, "…if forced to, of course."

"My, Bonegnasher _is_ an interesting name," Grobnar muttered. "I wonder what he would've done to earn it."

Callum shot a puzzled glance at the gnome, but Adele just smiled at the dwarf, hoping that smile will explain him everything about Grobnar. Apparently, it did.

"Anyway," he added, "good luck to you. And if you happen to run into that madman who's attacking the orcs out there, let him know I'd like to have a little chat with him."

"Sure," Adele looked down at Grobnar, who was already step-dancing in anticipation. "And _you_ are staying here."

"I am?" Grobnar asked in clear surprise. "Why? I've always wanted to visit orcs caves! It must be so interesting there!"

"It's too dangerous."

"Why?"

"Look, Grobnar, you really should stay… I mean… Well, the soldiers here need some inspiration. So… sing them a song or two, boost up their morale…"

"Ah! Of course, miss Adele," the gnome smiled happily. "I'd be glad to!"

"Attaboy," she breathed out with relief and turned to others. "Ready?"

"Crush some orcs?" Khelgar gave a laugh. "Always!"

"No need to ask _him _things like that," Neeshka rolled her eyes. "Ever."


	5. V: Look Who Lives In The Mountains 2

**V**: Look Who Lives in the Mountains (part two)

"…Those are very… _long_ mountains," Neeshka heaved a deep sigh, climbing on another ledge. They had to leave horses back in the Greycloaks' camp – narrow rocky paths left no chances of riding.

"An' no decent opposition," Khelgar added in the same tone. "Those Bonegnashers were almost a shame."

"Uh-huh," Adele nodded ironically. "Not that I'm reproaching you or something, but we seemed to have wanted to make a _deal_ with orcs – not hack them."

"Deal," the dwarf snorted. "All yer talkin' not goin' do ya any good, lass, mark my words. Time wastin' that is."

"No, it's not. Time _saving_ it is, actually."

"Pfft! Why's that?"

"Well, if we had had a deal with Yaisog, we wouldn't have had to kill him. If we hadn't had to kill him, Neeshka wouldn't have got that cut in her leg…"

"…Exactly," the tiefling muttered, wincing at the memory.

"…And if she hadn't got it, we wouldn't have had to set camp for several hours until Elanee got it healed for her enough to move on. So…" Adele shrugged, smiling at the dwarf, "…we would have saved a few hours. Go on, argue with me."

Khelgar opened his mouth to say something, but apparently couldn't come up with any appropriate answer, so he had to settle with a common one:

"An' no fun in that! I say we comb the mountains an' kill all the smelly bastards – ya'll see, we'll stumble across the emissary some time."

"Now _that_ is a sound plan," Qara drawled with apparent sarcasm. "Why don't we move to these mountains for the rest of our days? _I_ suggest to set fire to as much as possible of those tree-like snags and to smoke the orcs out of their caves."

"Yeah, wow, cool," Neeshka muttered. "And we'll bring to Neverwinter a burnt corpse of Issani. Emissary-on-grill, bon appetite, lord Nasher."

Adele sighed in her mind and gazed at Elanee. The elf was silent as usual, but looked around with interest and curiosity she vainly tried to hide. It seemed that the druidess never happened to visit mountains before – and even despite their several-days travel she still looked fresh and confident, as if the mere presence somewhere in the wilderness filled her with strength. Eyeing her for some time, Adele shifted her gaze back to the narrow path they followed… and stopped, staring at a huge pile of rocks blocking their way.

"Damn…" she whispered.

"Yeah," Khelgar agreed, measuring an impressive pile with his eyes. "Seems we'll hafta find another way around. Would take a dwarven engineering team a week to clear away this rockslide."

"Can't we just climb it over?" Neeshka wondered.

"We can't, I'm afraid," Elanee answered pensively. "The rocks will collapse under us. This slide happened not a while ago, so the stones are still… loose. See, there's not much dirt between them..."

The air suddenly lit up with a blaze of blinding flash, came a heat blast… and the stone pile exploded into pieces. Adele shrank back, shielding her head with her arms from flying rocks, but the pieces were too fine to inflict any damage. As the stone dust settled down a little, the travelers exchanged glances, making sure everybody was unharmed, and all together stared at Qara, who was standing behind twirling her staff with a small satisfied smirk.

"What?" she arched her eyebrow at their glances. "That pile was _begging_ for a fireball."

"…"

The sorceress rolled her eyes: "Oh, come on! It was fun, wasn't it? The way it blew up."

"Ya careful with that in the mountains, ya sapper!" Khelgar finally exploded. "It could cause a landslide, ya know!"

"Oh well, after all, it worked," Adele smiled briefly, hoping to prevent a fight. "Guess, Tymora still looks out for us, careless fools. Let's go."

But before they could advance much further, a group of orcs rushed out from behind a cliff, probably drawn by the din.

"Is it me, or are we seem to attract orcs to us?" Qara wondered, making a few steps back and catching her staff with both hands.

"This time, I'm afraid, it _is_ you," Adele smirked.

She heard Elanee murmur something quietly, and the next instant a few desiccated trees on the slopes moved slightly, enough to free their nodose roots and by doing that throw several large stone debris right down on orcs. Survivors lingered a bit, but still didn't get enough brains to make off and dashed towards Khelgar, to receive an enthusiastic welcome from the dwarf. It were times like this when Adele was really glad to have Khelgar around - after all, mass-battle was not her strong point. A duel, face to face – _that_ she was good at, so, as usual, Adele just followed Khelgar, delivering scarce but precise stabs with her rapier to the lucky ones who somehow managed to get alive from devastating chaotic chopping of dwarven axe. Neeshka cleaned up the other side, jumping on a large boulder to stay out of reach and using her throwing knives. To complete the picture, Qara kindled a firewall behind orcs backs, barring any ways to escape – which gladdened Khelgar so much he immediately forgot about his grudge towards the girl's sapper tests.

"Well, _that_ was entertainin'," he said, shaking blood off his weapon and looking at the last fallen orc under his feet. "Bet ya were surprised, huh, ya dumb."

While they were waiting for the firewall to abate, Adele rubbed her chest through blood-stained jerkin, feeling that unnerving pain in her ribs again, and drew a deep breath.

_Gods, please, no coughing this time…_

She felt a soft touch on her back and turned her head to meet Elanee's reassuring gaze. The druidess was the only one to know her secret – after the night on Maiden's Glade, when, exhausted from the fights, Adele woke up coughing out droplets of blood. Elanee used some kind of healing magic on her, never asking anything, allowing Adele to tell only if she wanted to.

Not that Adele _could_ tell much at all about that pain. There, in her chest, was a piece of an arrow or something, caught during the fight in West Harbor many years ago, when she was a babe – at least, that's what Daeghun told her. Too deep and too close to the heart to be removed. So, it just… was. And, as she told the druidess, when you can't change something - the only thing is to grin and bear it. Somehow she had the feeling that Elanee understood.

"It's fine," she nodded to the elf and smiled. "And thanks for not changing into animal form."

Elanee mirrored her smile: "_You_ asked not to."

"Yeah, well, you know, in heat of battle you turn around and suddenly see a dire boar behind your back… It _can_ freak you out, that's for sure."

"Ugh…" Neeshka pulled out another of her knives from an orcish corpse and shook it down with disgust. Her tail was wagging crossly. "Their blood surely reeks. We come back to Neverwinter, you won't be able to drag me out from the bath even by the tail."

"After me," Qara snapped back. "And you all are paying a laundress for me."

"You wish, Your Majesty," the tiefling snorted. "I'm the one charged with total treasury here."

"Since when?!" Khelgar asked indignantly.

"Since then, that I seem to be the only one worried about its collecting."

"Cease it, guys, please," Elanee said softly. "I'm sure we have more important things to worry about right now."

She turned to Adele for support, but the woman didn't answer, as she caught the sight of a small lonely pebble, suddenly slipping down the mountainside. Adele followed it with suspicious glance, then cast her eyes upwards and skimmed over the cliffs.

"I think somebody is…" she began quietly, but was cut off by the arrival of another orc band.

It appeared that the troops they had just smashed were sent on a probe, and the real forces moved up only now. And those forces were much more impressive.

"No, it isn't me," Qara sniffed. "We _do_ attract orcs to us."

"Just like orcs," Khelgar grinned and shook his head in mock disapproval. "They don't know when to quit."

Catching sight of them, the vanguard lingered a bit, but then, barking something to others, rushed to the attack, brandishing weapons. Not that they had any luck even in approaching their little group enough for a strike, as the same moment a hail of arrows rained down on them, and Adele saw several figures charged down the mountainsides, right into the thick of orcs. Clanging of swords rang out; orcs became apparently confused by an unexpected attack, which did them no good.

"Wh-?" Khelgar blurted, taken aback, then exclaimed, almost offended: "Hey! Those 're _our_ orcs!"

Swinging his axe, he plunged into the fight, and others were left no choice but to follow him.

_Honestly, sometimes I feel like we're engaging into battle just to cover Khelgar._

Finding herself in the throng of orcs, Adele instinctively thrust her rapier in the throat of the first orc who came across and swiftly pulled the blade out to parry a blow from the second – but felt her feet slip in a pool of orcish blood on the stones. Before she could adjust her body to keep balance, someone's hand, firm and warm, caught up her elbow, doing it for her, and, casting a quick glance up, she saw a tall black-haired man in full armor, shield hanging on the arm he grasped Adele with, longsword in the other hand. Looking down just as quickly and making sure she was alright, the man nodded and let her go, switching his attention back to the enemies – in time to ward off a blow.

Taken by surprise, the orcs fell dead one by one, and it didn't take much time for the fighters to wipe them out.

"Is this the guerilla band Callum mentioned?" Neeshka wondered, coming up to Adele.

"So it seems," the woman answered, watching the man that helped her. "And that one seems to be the famous "Katalmach"."

"Katalmach" was making the round of his men, verifying that everyone was alive. His face kept an expression of calm concentration, as if even after victory he didn't intent to relax his vigilance. He asked something, and the fighters answered, nodded, visibly relaxing and settling down, as if their leader was surrounded by an air of confidence and composure that passed to others as well.

_Well, he doesn't look like some madman or berserker Callum described. He looks more like a…_

"…Paladin!" Neeshka hissed, rubbing her shoulder violently. "Damn it… Their auras _always_ make my skin itch."

"What?" Adele looked at her. "Why?"

"Hells know. Guess my demonic blood reacts…" she harshly scratched the skin near her horns. "Shit… What is a paladin even doing here?"

"Want me to ask him?"

The tiefling grinned at her, but before she could reply the paladin turned to them, running his crystal-blue eyes over their small company.

"The Sword Mountains are a dangerous place," he said in a round, sturdy voice, stepping up to them, which made Neeshka move back a little. "Now even more than ever with the orc tribes gathered behind Logram's banner."

"Yes, we've got that already," Adele answered with a light sigh and smiled, jerking her head a bit towards orcish corpses. "Thanks for unexpected help," hearing an undignified grumble of Khelgar, she looked down at the dwarf and nodded him in mock self-reliance. "But, of course, we were doing just fine and would have crushed those orcs underfoot easily."

Again Khelgar opened his mouth to answer, getting red to the accompaniment of Neeshka's giggling, then huffed, shook his head and grinned at Adele:

"Ya know I love ya, lassie, but I swear, sometimes I feel like punchin' ya in the nose!"

"No, you can't!" she pressed her palm to her chest, widening her eyes in theatrical horror. "I mean, I'm too tall for that."

The dwarfed growled jokingly and suddenly tripped her up, making the woman fall and catching her on his shoulder.

"Now how's that?" he guffawed. "Not too tall anymore, eh?"

Neeshka's snickering turned to laughter, Qara rolled her eyes, Elanee just smiled fondly at their childish games. Still hanging on Khelgar's shoulder, Adele looked up at the paladin, who was watching them with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yeah, we _are_ a crazy bunch," the woman nodded at him and patted the dwarf on his back. "Khelgar, put me down. I need to look dignified."

He did so, and Adele took the extended hand of the paladin, rising to her feet. A few tresses of her black-and-white hair broke loose from the fillet, and Adele brushed them off her forehead, taking a view of the soldiers, who were exchanging glances and hushed remarks – probably about their company – then looked back at the paladin. His stern handsome face still wore a bit bewildered expression.

"So," Adele smiled, as if nothing happened. "I take it, you are the one harassing orcs in the mountains."

"Yes," he nodded slowly - and almost carefully. "For many months already."

"The Greycloaks tried to get in touch with you, actually."

"Yes, I am aware of that," he answered; some sullen tones appeared in his voice. "Be assured, that my men and I fight against the orcs… even if not on Neverwinter's behalf," he eyed their group again and looked back at Adele, who stood closest of the five to him. "I am curious, why have you ventured into the mountains? Surely you understood the risk in coming here."

"We're looking for a Waterdeep emissary gone missing in this mountains."

"Missing?" he asked almost in astonishment. "The orcs have grown bold, then, if they now interfere directly," he turned his head to his people. "This explains many things. Those recent orc movements…"

"Yes," a short blond woman in brown armor nodded in agreement, approaching him a little. "It all makes sense now."

"What do you mean, exactly?" Adele wondered, shifting her inquiring gaze from the paladin to the woman and back.

"Not long ago my men and I came across the remains of an orc raid on a heavily-armed column of troops," the paladin explained. "I was struck by the ferocity of the slaughter and that the orcs would dare strike at a well-armed and disciplined fighting force. We caught up with them and charged. Normally we would have routed them. This group, however, reacted to us with military precision. While their rear guard delayed us, the rest continued to move quickly in an organised fashion, all clustered around a single point. They may have been guarding your emissary."

"Did ya kill 'em?" Khelgar asked, but the man shook his head:

"We could not afford more losses. I just took a small group, and we followed the retreating orcs as best we could. At first I thought we had lost them, but then one of our scouts found the hidden trail to their cave. Our soldiers know the mountains well, but even they would have missed it, if not by chance."

"That must be the place where that… Logram fellow is hiding," Adele suggested to her companions.

"Then what 're we waitin' for?" Khelgar grinned, tightening his grip on the axe.

"If you intend to enter the stronghold of Logram, it is to the north. I can lead the way," the paladin offered.

_Well, really, never know where help comes from. First a crazy gnome shows us directions, now a highlander-paladin,_ - Adele held back a smirk. – _Honestly, if these trips to unknown places continue, we'll have to hire a scout or a ranger. _

…_But definitely not _that_ ranger._

"You sure you want him with us?" near her shoulder Neeshka whispered. "I mean, paladins only lead to troubles…" she winced. "And plus, his aura makes my skin _itch_."

"Come on, Neesh," Adele answered quietly. "He only suggests taking us to Logram and back. And he'll surely help us against the opposition. It'll save us a lot of time and trouble."

"Aye," Khelgar appraised the tall armored figure of the paladin. "An' he seems a good fighter ta have around."

Adele smiled at the tiefling's reflex scratching: "And don't worry, nobody's gonna make you _kiss_ him good-bye."

"Alright," Neeshka sighed in resignation and, casting a quick glance at the man, grinned mischievously. "Not that I'd _mind_ kissing him… if it wasn't for the itches."

Holding back a laugh, Adele turned to the paladin: "We'd appreciate the help, thanks."

"And you shall have it," the paladin assured them. It made Adele wonder if he actually heard their "parley". "Logram's death will be a serious blow to the orcs."

"We have lost some men," the woman in armor moved her shoulder, "but I will assemble who I can and…"

"No, Katriona," the paladin objected. "We have already lost too many, and a massed attack on Logram will only cost us more. I will be going on alone."

She stared at him in huge astonished eyes.

"Casavir… Sir…" she lowered her voice. "We kept you from this once. I think it's best if..."

"Katriona, _please_," he broke her off firmly. "It is important that you do as I ask. Take the survivors and fall back to the Greycloaks' camp. Do what you can to help them, and keep the pressure on the orcs. If we cannot defeat Logram, then he will come after them in full force, and the Greycloaks _must_ be warned."

Katriona folded her arms, arching her brow incredulously: "So after all this time avoiding Neverwinter forces, _now_ you want me to stride right into their camp?" she shook her head, at once dropping all subordination in the face of the possibility that the man, whom she clearly more than simply respected, would go alone and risk his life with Hells knew whom in tow. "Look, Casavir, let me go with you. There is no need to keep doing this alone. Let us _help_ you."

_"We_ don't mind additional forces," Adele remarked, more out of some kind of women solidarity, glancing shortly at Katriona. The sergeant just as shortly glanced back, something close to gratitude in her eyes.

"The trail to Logram's lair is narrow," Casavir answered, his measured voice calm and soft, but firm, like a blade wrapped into velvet. "More swords will not aid us there."

"I've _seen_ that trail," Katriona mentioned with apparent stress. "If you go up there you'll be nothing more than easy targets. Gods know what guards or defenses they have," though she was speaking with all of them, her stare was fixed on Casavir. "You'll be killed."

The paladin closed his eyes with finality: "You have your orders, Katriona."

_...Ouch._

"Yes, of course," Katriona managed a bitter smirk and saluted snappily. "Good luck to you, sir."

Casavir nodded, turning back to their band: "If you are ready, I'll show you the way."

"We 're always ready," Khelgar grinned and was the first to follow the paladin, when the man started walking up the rocky path.

Adele was going to follow too, when suddenly felt a careful squeeze on her elbow and looked at Katriona.

"Look after him, please," she said quietly. "The man cares little for his own safety."

Before Adele could answer, the woman turned back to soldiers:

"Alright, men, you heard the boss. Moving to the Well!"

Adele followed them with her eyes for some seconds and then rushed to catch up with her friends…

* * *

"So, let's do it," Adele shot a brief glance on others. "And everybody, be careful, I beg you."

Qara, tossing her head up a little in a way which would have befitted an empress, began to walk, but Adele was relieved to see Casavir outrun her a bit and withheld her. The sorceress measured him with a glare, jerked her shoulder indifferently and allowed him to go first. When the three of them together with Elanee disappeared behind the turn, Adele and Khelgar moved at Neeshka's heels up the cliff.

A couple of minutes later tiefling led them out on a flat ledge she previously had sneaked on to do some scouting. This point had a good view on a narrow passage below – and it was exactly the place where orcish archers stood. Fortunately for the adventurers, the archers – just like true orcs – were much more busy with swearing at each other than watching a path they were entrusted with. Either they were too confident in the secrecy of the passage, or just had some more important things to argue about.

Casting a glance down, Adele noticed ahead the barricades Neeshka mentioned. Five rows of plank fortifications supported by logs protected another orc band. Looking a little back, Adele saw the others. Qara was readying a spell of hers – judging by the way the air was gyrating towards the girl, raising small whirlwinds of dust from the ground. Casavir stood beside her, covering the girl with his shield and watching the barricades ahead. Elanee seemed to feel Adele's gaze or was just looking around, but she lifted her head, meeting Adele's eyes, and gave her an encouraging nod.

"Now," Adele whispered, adjusting her grip on the rapier.

Khelgar immediately dashed towards the orc archers, managing to take down the two of them with one cleave. The third one jumped aside, but Adele run her blade into the side of his neck, hearing the whizzing of Neeshka's throwing knives above her shoulder. The last orc started back with one of the daggers between his eyes, stumbled… and before anyone could stop him tumbled down from the ledge straight on the heads of his tribe folks.

The orcs took alarm, a few beasts left the barricades, launching down the path, and Adele seized a longbow from the hands of a dead orc. Pulling out several arrows from the quiver underfoot, she contrived to shot off three of the orcs before they reached her companions. The survivors were met with Casavir's sword, as the paladin stepped forward to cover the spellcasters and give them time to finish their spells. He repelled the clumsy attacks of enemies and delivered his own blows in such a calm swiftness, that the moves of his blade were almost mesmerizing.

"Now's my turn," Khelgar chuckled and hurried to the ledge-edge with apparent wish to leap down onto the orcs.

Watching the fight below and shooting arrows, Adele almost missed him, but in the last moment managed to catch the dwarf by the collar of his chainshirt:

"Wait!"

The same second Casavir stepped aside, moving out of Qara's way, and a jet of flame stroke from her body. Reaching the first of the barricades, the fireball carved its way through it, sending nearby orcs flying, hit the second fortification and exploded in a dazzling sphere of blaze, devouring everything around it. Orcs scattered in all directions, but got a nasty surprise from Elanee's entangling spell and stumbled, falling on the ground. Tongues of fire, vaulting from one dry plank of the barricades to the other, caught the monsters, turning them into live torches. Neeshka, running out of her daggers, just watched the fight below nervously, while Adele took down everybody she could, silently cursing an unbalanced orcish bow. Casavir fought off the rest of the orcs, landing his blows in the same unruffled and measured manner, using his shield to ward off the attacks and the flames.

"The lad _is_ good," Khelgar nodded approvingly.

"No argue there," Adele agreed, herself admiring the dance of hardened steel in the arm of the paladin.

"Huh, that way he's not gonna leave me any!" the dwarf threw his axe over in the hands. "Eh!"

With that exclamation, he jumped off, sliding down the cliff on his tailbone and raising his axe in the process, which allowed him to cut the first orc he bumped into in halves.

"Now _that_ is "wow"," - Neeshka muttered, still looking at the fight and fires below. "Looks kinda picture "conquering of the Nine Hells". A paladin is definitely in place," she snickered and nudged Adele with her elbow softly. "Maybe ask him to redeem me or something?"

Adele snorted in laughter.

As all the orcs lay dead, they made their way down. Adele was relieved to toss away the twisted bow and to see all of her companions unharmed. Khelgar was patting his beard in order to put out a few of smoldering hairs. Elanee trampled down some embers close to her. Casavir was wiping blood from his blade, his eyes focused on the orcs, as if he wanted to be sure that none of them posed threat any longer. Neeshka with a feigned indifference turned over the corpses with her boot in hopes to see something she could take as a souvenir. Qara was sitting on a large boulder, squeezing her staff between her knees and stroking Tamin, who dared to show his nose from under her collar. The sorceress was milk-pale, apart from arterial-red flush covering her cheeks. Fetching a water flask from her belt, she took a deep gulp, and Adele wasn't quite sure if she actually drank it or if the water just vaporized the moment it touched the girl's lips.

"You okay?" she asked Qara.

"Oh, yes! Just dizzy a bit," Qara suddenly flashed her a broad exhilarated smile. "Now that's what they lacked at the Academy - field practice!"

"I think we could all use a little rest," Casavir suggested.

"Agreed! Even I'm kinda out of breath," Khelgar grinned and turned to the paladin. "So. Seein' as how we altogether packed up two dozens of orcs – why don't we introduce each other finally?"

The paladin looked at him with surprise, apparently just now getting the fact that he actually _didn't_ introduce himself yet, and cleared his throat uncomfortably:

"I beg your pardon," he bowed his head a little. "Casavir."

"Khelgar Ironfist, that's me!" the dwarf extended his hand to the man.

Adele watched others introduce themselves as well, Elanee – with her usual soft and aloof politeness, Qara – indifferently and a bit bored, even Neeshka had the courage to shake Casavir's hand, though her face wrinkled a little.

"Is something wrong?" Casavir wondered.

"Nah, nothing wrong with _you_," she rubbed her reddish skin near the horns. "It's just… the blood riots."

Casavir stepped back a little: "Does this way feel better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"It is a big step you make – fighting your own nature."

Neeshka blinked at him, then looked at Adele with a taken aback "am I, really?" gaze, ignoring Khelgar, who was laughing into his beard.

"Very well," the dwarf rubbed his palms. "I say we keep movin', until it's dark. Have a whole orcish lair ahead of us!"

"I agree," Casavir nodded.

"Me too," Qara got up, placing the staff on her shoulder and running her eyes over the mountains with the looks as if she was going not to defeat orcs, but to conquer new territories for her kingdom. Tamin, sensing a forthcoming battle, reasonably hid under her collar.

In the deepening cool autumn twilight the six of them continued their way up the narrow path, leading deeper into the mountains. Adele, busy with gazing around, tarried a bit, when she caught Casavir's inquiring stare at herself. For some moments she just stared back, arching her brow questioningly, then shook her head and smirked:

"Yeah, sorry. Adele. Adele Farlong."

"City Watch?" the paladin pointed at her cloak with his eyes.

"Yes. Lieutenant," she smirked again: "Recently."

Casavir lifted his gaze up to the sky: "It's been a while since I have been in Neverwinter."

"Nah, don't worry," Neeshka grinned, patting Adele on her shoulder. "You've left the city in good hands."

The paladin nodded: "So I see."

Adele couldn't hold back a smile and nodded gratefully in return.


	6. VI: Those Bloody Caves

**VI**: Those Bloody Caves

"Heh," Khelgar wrenched his axe free from the body of the last orc and dried his forehead with his sleeve, looking over the battle site with apparent pride. "Long live Logram."

"Maybe, burn down this cave completely?" Qara suggested. "You know, to put a certain end."

"Better not," Adele objected, passing her blade over orcish skin to wipe off the reeking blood. "Issani is somewhere here still."

"…Oh, right," the sorceress nodded with disappointment.

Adele smirked and looked at Casavir, who was taking down Logram's banner from the wall. For a brief moment she actually got afraid, that the paladin was going to drive the staff of the banner into Logram's scull, exclaiming something like "hail, my friends, we've smote a great evil today, boo-ha-ha", but she shoved those thoughts away quickly. After all, Casavir had already proven himself to be quite a sensible paladin.

Besides, it's not like orcs were evil. They were just… orcs.

"We can take it to the Greycloak's camp, as a proof of Logram's death," Casavir said at Adele's questioning glance and folded the banner, giving it to the woman. "And I thank you for your help."

"Not at all," she shrugged, watching him closely. He had a nasty cut on his cheek, and the paladin was touching the shoulder-plate of his armor thoughtfully, where Logram's mace left a serious dent, pressing the metal into his flesh. "You are hurt."

"It's nothing serious," he stated calmly.

Neeshka again was busy collecting her throwing daggers, quietly cursing orcs in general and those ones, in which her knives got stuck especially deep, in particular. Elanee was watching large white wolves they set free from their cage near the entrance. One of them was lying dead under orcish corpses, some were licking clean their wounds, others just sniffed around uncomfortably. Adele herself admired the animals. She never met Northern wolves before, only heard about them. Maybe even from Daeghun – which seemed surprising, considering his zero loquacity. The white fur of the animals sparkled crimson in smoky torch-light, like the snow on the tops of their native mountains at the dawn; taut muscles rolled over under the skin, and it was impossible not to admire the easiness and even grace of their movements, especially taking into account their imposing size. They were big, much bigger even than the full-grown wolf of that ranger, Bishop…

…_Alright, somebody tell me, why the Hells does that asshole keep popping up in my mind?_

Adele shook her head and approached Elanee.

"There is another level in this lair," the elf told her. "The animals remember the path behind the throne."

"Well, maybe it's a jail or something," Adele nodded. "I just hope Issani is still alive."

Khelgar and Casavir moved Logram's throne aside from the wall, revealing a chain of worn down stone footsteps, which led deeper underground. One of the wolves jerked his muzzle, peering guardedly into the opened aperture, another ran up to it, but stopped abruptly, throwing his head back and howling.

"Something… troubles them, something below," Elanee whispered, probably herself having no idea that her long slender fingers clutched nervously at her neck, as if the feelings of the animals passed to her as well.

"Well then, let them stay here," Adele advised and looked at the others. "Unfortunately, we can't, so… let's go."

The air in the tunnel was warm, almost hot, filled with the smells of dust, old lamp-oil, soot from the torches and common orc stench. But this stench got admixed with something else… An oppressive sickeningly-sweet pong of decay and parched blood…

The footsteps came to an end, and they moved into a long narrow cave…

"Oh gods," Adele breathed out.

The plank-covered floor was littered with bodies – men, women, orcs – all piled up together, kinked up, warped by some unknown force. Some bodies were fresh, others carrion and rotten, with deep wounds, clotted blood on pale skin, blank whitish eyes, mouths opened wide in last scream…

"What _is_ this place?" Qara groaned in disgust and shook her head. "That's it! I am _never_ traveling in the mountains again!"

"Uh…" Neeshka moved back to the stairs slowly. "Let's go away, huh?"

"It looks like some sort of burial chamber," Khelgar muttered, looking around.

"Strange…" Elanee laced her fingers together nervously, but her gaze was sweeping over the corpses. "Orcs do not usually place their dead side by side with human bodies…"

Casavir strode forward, paying no attention to the fact that he was stepping right into the pool of curdled blood, which flooded the floor. His motionless face was white, blue eyes blazing feverishly.

"These corpses…" he said hoarsely. "I know these men and women… I served with them… Some of them fell in battles against the orcs, but their bodies were never found… How…?" he swallowed hard. "How did they end up here?"

He moved between the bodies, bending over them, touching there foreheads with his fingers and muttering something mutely – probably a prayer.

"We really should leave…" Neeshka continued to repeat in panic. "Please, let's just leave… Now… I… I don't know what's happening, but… this place… it just feels _wrong_… I can feel it, honestly…"

Adele looked at her: "Well, let's just get this whole stuff straight… Whatever it is, I kind of don't fancy the idea of leaving it behind our backs."

"…Alright," Neeshka came up to her with a miserable look on her face and forced a smile. "But, you know, sometimes I'd rather leave something behind… way, _way_ behind."

Adele squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

"Neeshka is right, something _is_ wrong here…" Elanee rubbed her temples. "The sense is… strange… and familiar… it's like.... a shadow, like death."

"Yes," Casavir echoed grimly. "I sense it too."

"It's like in the Mere…" Elanee's voice was absent, as if in trance, and Adele wasn't sure she liked that. **"**The shadows are thick here, seeping into the land… Whatever is in the Mere is touching here as well…"

Adele looked at her shortly, hoping her tension stayed out of notice. _Like in the Mere? Oh, that's too freakin' nice for being a coincidence._

"You know," Qara suddenly muttered, tilting her head a bit, "they way this bodies are arranged… it reminds me of some diagrams I've seen in necromancy books."

_Uh-o__h, even Qara is so stressed that admitted reading books… _Now_ I'm totally terrified…_

"It's revoltin'," Khelgar spat angrily. "Let's have a look around! I feel like addin' some orc corpses to this floor!"

"I agree, we should proceed," said Casavir. His voice actually sounded angry. "I want to know who has done this, and why."

Adele nodded, following the two of them through the rows of bodies, not taking her eyes of the dead, a bit afraid that they would jump up and attack them.

"Oh, great," Qara sighed. "From bloodthirsty orcs to creeping around in tunnels filled with corpses... this just gets better and better."

Coming alongside with Casavir, Adele looked up at him. The paladin's face was stony as usual, but the woman could almost feel the tremble of fury and loathing coursing through his body.

"Wynn?!" Qara's stunned voice rang out somewhere at the side.

They turned around to see the girl dashing towards one of the bodies. It was a boy, not older than Qara herself, in a blood-stained yellow-and-blue Academy robe. But even more surprising was the fact that the boy was actually still alive, though his entire body was convulsing, twisting his spine so hard it was strange that it hadn't broke yet.

"Wynn!" Qara grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "What are you doing here?!"

"Qara…" he groaned. From his mouth blood was oozing, thick and dark. "Qara, help me… Pain…"

"Who is he?" Adele approached the girl together with Elanee, who immediately started to concentrate for healing.

"A fellow student of mine at the Acadamy..." Qara replied, her expression a mixture of disgust and alarm, as she was apparently pondering over in her mind if she could do anything. "One of the few I actually liked, in fact."

"Pain!!!" the boy shrieked, his body arching in agony. "So much pain!!!"

"Shh," Elanee closed her eyes, placing her hands on his chest.

"This place…" Casavir whispered. "Someone is using the dead for… experimentation… defiling their bodies instead of allowing them to rest…"

"Ahh," suddenly came a cold voice from the other end of the cave.

From the shadows emerged a tall dark-robed figure in a faceless white mask, looking exactly like the priests they killed in Fort Lock… in Highcliff… near the Skymirror. At his heels were two young guys in the same Academy robes. Their pale, almost grey faces were apathetic, dead; dull eyes were staring into space.

The masked face of the priest was turned to Casavir, who tightened his grip on the sword.

"I _thought_ I felt a stir within my domain…" he had no face to be seen, but from the sound of his voice Adele could swear that the priest was smiling. "Like a bright shining light trying to cast away shadow."

"These people…" Casavir clenched his teeth. "What have you done to them?! You deny them their rest, deny them their peace!"

"Peace?" the priest chuckled darkly. "Come now. Surely you recall how they _died_, paladin. You led them into one glorious charge after another, and these mountains had been covered in blood since your arrival. What _I _have done to them is mercy in comparison. And I shall also grant them a chance at revenge, I think."

"…I don't know what power you worship, but I can sense the evil thick upon you. Darkness has touched you, and it will soon run deeper than you know…"

"Oh, stop it, please. Shadows _always_ run deeper than one knows. Even deep in _your_ heart, paladin…"

"He's dead," Qara whispered, leaving Wynn's body to Elanee, who shook her head in regret that she wasn't able to do anything. The girl got up, and her gaze darted towards the two wizards flanking the priest. "Kerryn? Vhadin? What has this thing done to you?!"

The dark priest with obvious pleasure breathed in the air, like it was filled with peerless fragrance.

"Such a strong magic," he drawled. "You will make an excellent gift for my master, girl."

"I'll pass, thanks," Qara filtered the words disdainfully through her teeth. "What have you done to the others?"

"Oh, them?" the priest motioned on the dead wizard with his head. "I have granted them eternal life... and power. They cannot die, yet they retain their skills in the arcane arts. You, however, will outshine them both. You are _strong_... I can feel the power burning within you. Few who are granted eternal life retain their mastery over magic. These two lost much of their power. But you will retain much of it... Enough to lead an _army_."

Qara raised her brows: "Eternal life, huh?"

Adele stared at her: "You're kidding."

"Of course I am," the sorceress snorted. "If I _wanted_ to become a zombie, I would have stayed at the Academy."

"We won't let you touch her," Casavir said to the priest.

"As if _I_ shall let him touch me!" Qara noticed. "No way. I'll sooner die."

"Oh, but of course you will," the priest answered. "Death is the first step before the eternal life is granted," he turned to his slaves. "Seize her! Destroy her companions, but she must not be harmed!"

_Well, surely a strange way of seizing_, - Adele thought, seeing how the wizards began casting some spells, but before she – or any of her friends – had any opportunity to do something, a ray of fire escaped Qara's body, crashing into the evil trio.

Adele shrank back, using her free hand like a visor to cover her eyes from the light, as the sorceress launched another fireball, then another one, and another – nearly drowning the priest and the wizards in flames. Blood drained from the girl's face, lips pursed into a thin angry line, and Adele felt beads of sweat standing out on her own forehead from the heat surrounding the sorceress. The priest was having hard time protecting himself from the fire with some kind of magical shield, while both of his dead friends were already cremated.

"Wanted my power, did you?" Qara hissed vehemently, casting another fireblast. "Eat it!"

And fainted.

Elanee and Adele, who were standing on her each side, managed to catch the girl before she fell on the floor. At the same moment Neeshka took the opportunity of a clear shot and threw her dagger right into the priest's head, cutting off his spell and giving Khelgar and Casavir a possibility to finish him off. Blood spurted, and the priest collapsed on the ground in the rustle of his dark robes.

"…Boo-ha-ha," Adele muttered under her breath.

"Now I'm startin' to feel sorry for that poor Waterdeep guy," Khelgar admitted, gesturing at the priest's remains. "Seein' the company he was in."

Casavir stooped down to look at the remains. Adele knew he wouldn't find any corpse inside the robes – she remembered all too well those priests they had killed before.

Qara, coming to her senses, sat heavily and ran her fingers through her short red hair, looking around a bit perplexedly, and absentmindedly scratched the ear of her weasel, who was nuzzling into her neck.

"How are you?" Adele asked.

"Huh?" the sorceress blinked, shook her head, and her face regained its usual haughty self-assured expression. "I'm great! So, what are we doing next?"

Adele smirked, helping the girl to her feet, and gestured further to the tunnel: "Looking for Issani still."

Coming up to Casavir, she patted his shoulder lightly, and the paladin lifted his gaze from the remains of the shadow priest.

"Who was this man?" he asked.

Adele shrugged expressively: "Don't know either. Let's just get the emissary and see what he can say."

Casavir nodded in agreement, mechanically wiping off the blood that ran out of the cut on his cheek. Walking through the necromantic chamber, they found themselves in another tunnel, narrow and empty, which ended with a row of heavy rusty doors. As Neeshka was fiddling with the locks, the others were looking around and back unwittingly – the atmosphere of the cave left no chances to feel at ease.

In the sell they recovered a man, who was sitting on a plain crude wooden bunk. His age was rather hard to determine, partially because of the numerous bruises covering his face, exhausted and rank with stubble. When they entered the cell, he frowned on them wearily: "What? Torture again?"

"No," Casavir replied. "We are here to help you."

"…if you _are_ the guy we're looking for, that is," Neeshka added, hooking her lock-picks back on her belt.

"And whom are you looking for?" he regarded all of them with a careful stare. "I am Issani, Emissary of Waterdeep. My escort was killed by orcs to the last men, while I was brought here and tortured in order to make me help some Garius I have no idea about… and really hope not to have any. Even if you came here not to help _me_, I would still be grateful for getting me out of here."

"And _how_ grateful exactly?"

"Neesh," Adele whispered, pulling her up, and then turned back to the emissary. "We'll take you to the Greycloaks' camp. From there you'll be escorted to Neverwinter."

"Thank the gods," Issani breathed with relief, leaning on Casavir's arm and rising to his feet with apparent difficulty. "Almost lost my hope to see an end to it. Oh, and by the way, they took my identification papers – I'd like to get them back, if possible."

"Is that your biggest problem right now?" Qara wondered.

Issani was silent for some moments, then grinned: "Right. Matter of professional habit, I guess… To Abyss those papers, really. Just get me out of this place."

* * *

It was dawning when they made it back to Old Owl Well, where Issani immediately got into the hands of the soldiers under the leadership of Callum. Entrusting the fortuneless emissary to Greycloaks' care, the travelers managed to drag themselves to the nearest campfire, where they found Grobnar sleeping sweetly and where they finally could have a sit and rest themselves. Khelgar followed the gnome's example and started snoring the moment his body assumed a supine position on the bedroll, without even leaving hold of his axe. While Neeshka was busy roaming around the camp in order to find some hot meal, Elanee fell asleep too, wrapping herself in the blanket and resting her back against a large log, which served as a bench. Qara grumbled for some time that _her_ blanket surely had chinches or something no less disgusting inside, but even she couldn't stand the tiredness and finally gave up to sleep, embracing herself and clutching her staff and Tamin to her chest.

Adele was sitting on a log, slowly sipping some tea-substitute from a mug and watching the sparkles flying from the fire up into the brightening sky. The fuss caused by Issani's arrival was coming to a naught already, and subdued hammer thumps wafted to Adele's ears as the soldiers went back to constructing the fortifications. The woman took another sip from the mug and stretched out her legs with pleasure, relaxing her muscles and hooding her eyes a little.

"My lady?" she heard Casavir's voice, and it actually took her some time to realize – quite to her amazement – that he was addressing _her_.

_Shaggy blood-stained girl in men's outfit…_ - she thought with a mental snort. -_ Some lady._

"Just 'Adele' is fine," she said, moving aside on the log to give the paladin some space to sit. Having his armor off, Casavir was able to roll up the sleeve of his tunic and cleanse the wound on his upper-arm, to which he was now pressing a bandage soaked with some kind of healing potion. Magic was fine, but good-old potions were much handier when you were exhausted. "How's your arm?"

"Better already, thank you," he nodded, also looking at the fire.

Before Adele could ask or say anything else, Callum approached her, grinning: "Well, well, the emissary can't stop singing you praises. Rest assured, he'll make a great deal of important people in Neverwinter learn of what you have done."

_Eh, I'd prefer all those important people be never even aware of my existence. _

"Oh, by the way, Logram won't learn anything anymore," Adele smiled at him, handing him the banner from her bag. "Ever."

"Heh," Callum shook his head slightly in disbelief, then grinned again. "This would explain why the orc attacks have stopped -- without a chieftain they're probably too busy fighting each other now."

Adele shrugged: "Glad we could help."

"Wish we had more of such kind of "help" around here. And we also had some visitors - a woman, Katriona, with her men. She claims to have been part of the force attacking the orcs. It was her leader that I was waiting for..." his gaze traveled from Adele to the paladin. "And I see you've brought him," Callum nodded slowly. "Well met, Casavir."

"Callum," the man nodded in return, the same careful aloof nod. "It is good to see you're still in one piece."

"You know each other?" Adele asked in surprise.

"Yes, Callum serves Neverwinter…" the paladin was silent for a while. "As I did… for a time."

"Well," the dwarf grunted, "now that I know who was leading that mercenary band, I understand why it was so difficult for us to make contact with you," he cleared his throat. "You've put me in a difficult position here, Casavir. Your leaving was sudden… and some even say, disloyal to Neverwinter."

"Look," Adele interfered, "whatever trouble Casavir is in, know that he really helped us and…"

Casavir's hand covered her elbow, stopping her words. The woman looked at him, and he shook his head.

"I cannot have you defend me in this…" he said quietly and lowered his eyelids a bit instead of a nod. "…But I thank you."

"No, no harm will come to Casavir, I assure you," Callum waved his hand at Adele. "My report will read that the Greycloaks were able to hold off the orcs long enough for you to take Logram's head," he grinned again. "_That_ should make the Council happy that their money was well spent. And officially, Casavir was never here," he looked at the paladin again, and the man nodded silently in understanding. "Whatever reasons you had for leaving - they are your own."

"Thank you, Callum," Casavir answered. "And what of _my_ soldiers? They know Old Owl Well – and they fight as only those fighting for their home will fight."

"I could certainly use them if they don't mind wearing a uniform, my friend. My Greycloaks could learn more than a thing or two from them. Of course, I'm going to have a hard time explaining to the Counsel how I suddenly ended up having another hundred mouths to feed and arm, but… I'll think of something."

"And the emissary?" Adele asked. "We need to bring him to Neverwinter."

"Don't worry. The emissary is under my protection now. I'll send my best soldiers to escort him. You have good rest. I think you've already risked enough for him."

"Fine by me," Adele smiled. "Thanks."

"It is I who should be thanking you and your companions," Callum smirked and jerked his head towards sleeping Grobnar. "But I have to _beg_ you to take this creature away with you. My men had to make him dead-drunk, so that he would shut up finally."

Adele's smile grew wider: "We'll free you from him, promise."

"Alright then, have rest and head back as soon as you see fit. Good luck to you," he looked at Casavir again. "And to you, my friend." With that, he headed back to his men.

"So," Neeshka sneaked to them from behind the nearest tent, chewing something enthusiastically. "Any reward we get from commander Gollum?"

Adele couldn't hold back a snort, out of the corner of her eye noticing Casavir's blank stare at the tiefling.

_Y__eah, you need to get used to our band's sick sense of humor._

"Kick me, Neesh, I've forgot to ask. Honestly."

The tiefling flinched in disappointment: "…Oh, well, first thing for you to do in the morning then. By the way," she pointed towards the fires absently, "they're roasting some mountain beastie over there. What some?"

Casavir shook his head, while Adele just smirked bleakly: "I doubt I can stomach anything right now. Not after those caves…"

Neeshka frowned, looking into space, then grouched: "Aw, why did you need to remind… damn," she sat down near sleeping Elanee. "I was fed up with necroshit in Highcliff already…"

The paladin turned to Adele: "So you have encountered something like that before?"

"Yup," the woman nodded. "The same priest. Well, _three_ of them already, not counting this one."

"Who… _what_ are they?"

"No idea, really. Just run into those guys all the time. Seem to be kind of cultists or something…" she was silent for some time, recollecting memories, then added: "And this name… Garius. Don't know who is he, but he seems to be the boss of those priests, seeing how he's getting mentioned here and there. Listen," she glanced at him, "if I give you something, will you be able… don't know… to feel if this thing is… well, _bad_."

Casavir shrugged: "I'll do my best."

Adele took the silver shards, carefully wrapped into piece of cloth, out of her bag and handed them to the paladin. Removing the fabric, Casavir twiddled the shards in his hands thoughtfully, put them together and gave a light start, when a few pale-blue sparkles rolled over the edges of the shards.

"Yeah, they do that sometimes," Adele smirked at his surprise, privily rubbing her slightly aching ribs. _Definitely need some rest_.

"They are the pieces of a sword," Casavir remarked.

"Khelgar thinks so too."

"…But a _silver_ sword…? Where do you have them from?"

"Oh, it's… a long story. But can you feel anything?"

"Something _is_ in them, of course. But I am not familiar with the arcane."

"No, I mean… are they bad?"

"It is a weapon. Weapon cannot be anything but weapon. Good or evil is in the hand that holds it," he looked at Adele. "Are these shards somehow connected with those dark priests?"

"…No. Maybe. Don't know for sure. These things are a… personal problem. So to say."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Me?" Adele felt taken aback. "Why should you…?"

"You and your friends were of great help to me here. I wish to do the same in return, if it is within my power."

Adele exchanged glances with Neeshka. The tiefling nodded several times feverishly, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Well, not that I mind any help…" Adele turned back to Casavir. "But we need to go back to Neverwinter. You sure you're comfortable with that?"

"Rest assured that I doubt anyone looks for me. I just… left Neverwinter service, and the matter is not more complicated than that."

"Alright then. Don't want to cause troubles to anyone."

"Whatever my problems are, I'll do my best to ensure you are not drawn into them," he handed her the shards back.

"Fine," Adele smiled. "Thanks. But you know, now you are condemned to listen to a long story."

Something close to a smile also appeared in the corners of his mouth: "I am ready."

"You said it," she drew a deep breath, theatrically held it for a second, then let the air out. "Alright, the long story begins in West Harbor. It's in the Mere…"

* * *

…By the time she finished Neeshka also fell asleep – in the same sitting position, cuddling up to the log and putting a fist under her cheek. Casavir was listening to her story intently, interrupting only a couple of times with some questions, and his attention made Adele feel like she really was performing on the stage of a theatre.

"Well…" she moved her shoulders. "That's the end. For now. At the moment I'm hoping to get access to Blacklake District, have a talk with that sage, Aldanon, and finally find out something about these sword-pieces."

"I see," Casavir said thoughtfully. "Githyanki… As far as I know they dwell in the Astral Plane."

"You had come across them?"

"No, never. But I have learned about many of the outerplane creatures at the Temple," he was silent for some time, watching the dying embers of the extinct campfire. "It is strange. I have never heard of them being so persistent in stalking somebody."

"Neither heard anybody. Neeshka said that usually they hit the target and return home. That being on our plane is somewhat… painful for them," she shrugged again. "Well, it seems that pain is nothing compared to how much they want this silver rubbish… beats me _why_. Anyway, they seem to have lost our trail as we entered Neverwinter."

"You should not disregard the possibility that they simply do not want to be noticed and attack in plain view."

Adele chuckled gloomily: "Now that's encouraging."

"…Forgive me, I just wanted to point out the realities of the situation."

"It's alright, I've got that," Adele grinned. _No, the guy is definitely too serious for his own good_. She pushed a rolled out ember back to the fire and looked at the paladin again. "But honestly, what I _don't_ get is how you ended up here. Not everyday meet paladins in the mountains."

"The residents of Old Owl Well have suffered from orc attacks for years. Someone had to put an end to it."

"So, you gathered men and…"

"No. The locals became my men. Living here made them tough and capable enough to drive their enemy back. They just needed to be… reminded of that."

"…You mean you came… alone?"

"Yes," his blue eyes were fixed on the embers, his face remained calm and still, as if carved from marble.

"…Why?"

"Because it was something that needed to be done. By someone. I felt that my sword could make a difference."

"But still…" Adele placed her elbows on her knees, also watching the embers, suddenly caught up in memories of her days-long journey through the Mere, until she met Khelgar at the inn, unspeakably glad of his offer to have a drink together. She was so exhausted and lost that couldn't even keep up the conversation, allowing the dwarf to rattle about him becoming monk and simply listening, listening, _listening_ to his words – for his loud cheerful voice muffled her thoughts so nicely… "Going all alone in the thick of things… and orcs… Weren't you kinda worried?"

Again he was silent for some seconds, then shrugged: "That is the way of Tyr – if the truth is on your side, you will prevail. One way or the other, despite the enemy number or… something else you will be victorious. And I believe in it…" he closed his eyes. "I want to believe in it."

Adele drew herself up, watching him: "You alright?"

Casavir rubbed the eyelids and opened his eyes, not tearing his gaze from the campfire.

"…It just that there are battles than can be won by sword," he said quietly. "And there are others that cannot. That is why sometimes a man must… he had to…" he fell silent, then shook his head. "I am sorry, but… it's hard to explain. If you don't mind, it is something I do not wish to speak of right now. Perhaps, some other time. When the words are easier to find."

"Alright, no problem," she touched his shoulder encouragingly. "Sorry for prying."

"There's nothing you should feel sorry about."

"Nah, sometimes I start enjoying the sound of my own voice too much, I know," she smiled. "Next time just tell me to shut up in time – and it'll be fine."

Casavir regarded her with a somewhat puzzled glance that made Adele smile even more. Then the paladin motioned towards the others: "You should have a rest. You look really tired."

Adele nodded, rising from the log, and Casavir returned to staring at the burned down firewood. Throwing her bag and weapon on the ground, Adele wrapped herself in the blanket and lay down not far from Qara. From under her lowered eyelashes she watched the paladin for some time, who was still sitting and looking pensively at the extinct soot-covered embers.

_There you go and do it again,_ - her everlastingly malcontent inner voice whispered. – _You jump on the guy and start your bloody understanding. Why the Hells do you need to so much?_

Adele closed her eyes.

_Because I'd sooner rape everybody around with understanding th__an become like Daeghun. And I won't. I swear, I'll die a thousand deaths, but I won't…_


	7. VII: Who Is Without A Sin?

**VII**: Who Is Without a Sin?

"That's what I call "drunk"!" Khelgar nodded at comatose Grobnar, who was thrown across the saddle. " 's he alive at all?"

"He is," Adele smirked, holding the gnome between herself and the horse's withers. "Well, at least he breathes."

Their horses were moving in an unhurried line through narrow paths of the Sword Mountains back to Neverwinter. Khelgar preferred to move on foot, taking advantage of their slow speed, and was obviously not going to climb on the mare for as long as possible. Casavir showed them a quicker path, different from the one they took coming to Old Owl Well, so the landscape around was completely unknown.

Grobnar suddenly gave a start, tossing his head up, and Khelgar let out a disappointed hem: "Eh, bad luck."

"Huh? What?" the gnome started to spin his head around so fast that it seemed to revolve on its axis. "Are we going somewhere already? Where? Me too? Oh my, that is so wonderful! Not that I care where to go, but maybe you do, that's why I asked," he noticed Casavir and smiled broadly at him. "My, we have a new friend? Good day to you, sir, I'm Grobnar Gnomehands. Miss Adele," he turned back to the woman without giving the paladin a second to react somehow to his words. "Do you think we can go back to the camp for a while? You know, I tasted a very interesting drink there… what was it called? Oh, I wanted to ask, but didn't have time. Because I fell asleep. And what is most disappointing, I fell asleep exactly in the middle of an extremely fascinating story! Quite embarrassing, really. I am so terribly ashamed. I mean, the soldiers to whom I was telling it – now they'll never know the end! I must say, it was horrible of me to fall asleep so selfishly, don't you think?"

"Del," Qara groaned. "Gag him before we are all drown in this stream of consciousness."

"My, these are wonderful mountains!" Grobnar dangled his legs cheerfully, looking around. "The way the light falls, and those shadows, and the colors… Very beautiful! And look, there are even dwarves – my, like a picture, really!"

"What?!" Khelgar gave a startled jump, turning around.

Adele drew rein, and the horse stopped, tapping a hoof on the stones discontentedly. Others followed the woman's example.

Indeed, at the bottom of a mountain there were several dwarves, covered by a shadow cast by a ledge. Judging from their appearance, they had seen battle not long ago – intently and somberly they were attending their wounds, trading rare words and remarks. As the travelers approached, one of the dwarves – a bit thin for someone of his race, with a sumptuous goldish plaited beard – got up from his seat, eyeing the newcomers mistrustfully:

"You are a strange band to be wandering these mountains."

…_to be wandering anything__ anywhere_, - Adele thought with amusement.

"Khulmar?!" Khelgar asked, astonished, and advanced the dwarves. "Same could be said 'bout ya. What're ya doin' here, so far from Ironfist lands?"

"Not as far as you'd _think_, Khelgar," the dwarf snapped back and regarded the rest of them with another unfriendly gaze. "But it's clan business, not for outsiders."

"Ah, Khulmar, c'me on. These 're friends, can be trusted..." he cast a short sidelong glance at Neeshka. "Well, most of 'em. Who's blood 's that on yer armor? Orcs?"

"Khelgar, who is it?" Adele asked quietly.

"This here 's Khulmar, one of the best scouts of Ironfist clan – an' good in a fight," Khelgar shrugged. "Not that it explains what he's doin' here, though."

Khulmar wiped off the blood breaking out from a deep cut on his forehead: "We are scouting out the old Ironfist clanhold in these mountains, seeing if it can be reopened… or retaken. Bugbears are blocking the way. But they will not do so for long."

"Bugbears?" Khelgar roused himself immediately. "Then what 're we waitin' for?! Let's bury them!"

"It's nothing we can't handle, Khelgar," Khulmar answered sharply. "No need to shed the blood of non-clan."

"Nonsense, Khulmar! These all 're spoilin' for a fight," Khelgar laughed and turned to the others. "What say ya all? Wanna give the vultures some bugbear corpses to feast on?"

Casavir, who was standing closest to him, shrugged: "If they are in need of help, we should do what we can," he looked at Adele, making a point. "The more allies we have in these mountains, the better. A dwarven presence, especially the Ironfist clan, would also make tactical sense as well."

"Yeah, that's great, Casavir," Qara snorted. " 'Always did what they could'. That will be carved on our tombstones. If anyone finds our bodies at all."

"Is it true they say," Neeshka broke in, "that old dwarven halls have lots of gold and gems, just lying around for the taking?"

Khelgar regarded her with a scathing look: "Maybe so, but not for _yer_ rakin' hands, fiendling!"

"After everything what we have seen in these mountains," Elanee muttered, "I don't welcome the thought of going deeper inside them. But if we must..."

"Why, you don't want to, miss Elanee?!" Grobnar stared at her in clear amazement. "Why? It sounds like a tale waiting to happen!" he lifted his eyes to the skies. "Just think of it! "Grobnar Gnomehands and the liberation of the Ironfist clan… and all its engineering marvels". A tale for any tavern, for every man, woman and child…"

Khulmar tilted his head: "Who is this gnome?"

Khelgar waved his hand: "Eh, just arrow bait. I'll tell you later," he looked up at Adele: "So, what d'ya think?"

"About helping your kin?" the woman smiled. "Sure, why not?"

Khulmar's face remained impervious: "We are grateful for the... gesture, but such false courtesies are wasted on us. This _is_ Ironfist clan business."

"But, Khulmar," Khelgar grunted. "_I_ am Ironfist clan -- yer fight 's my fight!"

Khulmar gritted his teeth and suddenly bawled: "Those were not the words you used when you left so long ago to pursue this mad... idea of yours!!! You seek to learn how to fight, but you have cast aside the _why_ of it! Clan honor, duty - these are the things you've forgotten the value of!!! So stay with your new band - we neither ask for your help nor require it!"

"The new band" exchanged puzzled glances behind Khelgar's back, but stayed mute – no one had any desire to get between two angry dwarves. Well, apart from Casavir, but even he thought better of it.

"Look, Khulmar," Khelgar growled, "if I _can_ help…"

"You wish to help – do something of note, not words!!! Go and kill all the bugbears ahead if you want to! Whether you return or not, it does not matter to me, and it does not matter to the clan!"

"That I will!" Khelgar flared up. "I'll go an' kill, ya just wait an' see!!!"

With those words he turned abruptly on his heels and rushed straight on along the canyon. Others had no choice but to leave horses and follow him.

"Now these are friendly fellows…" Qara remarked.

"Yeah, what's gotten into them?" Neeshka looked back over her shoulder, as if afraid that the dwarves were following them. "What's the problem in leaving for some time?"

"I didn't leave!" Khelgar bellowed. "I mean, I didn't leave _them_!!!"

"Did you know they were going here, into these mountains?" Adele asked.

"No… They just didn't tell me! Not that they could… but still, I didn't leave 'em!!! I just… just was lookin' for a fight in other places!"

"Come on, don't boil," Neeshka waved her hand. "There's nothing bad in some personal interest."

"What 're ya talking about?!!" the dwarf exploded. "_Personal_ interest?!! It's my loyalty to the clan ya're questionin'!!! Bein' a warrior 's honorable! I just… It's for them I… I…" he stuttered, then spat on the ground furiously. "Bah, I'm fed up with ya!!! Stop naggin' me!!!"

"I didn't even begin to!"

"Argh, piss off!!! Let's just go and hack some bugbears – they don't speak rot at least!!!"

Brandishing his axe in tact with his frantic footsteps, he sped up into the mountains…

* * *

…Heat emanated from the stones warmed by the sun, rock dust filled the air, and the way along the canyon seemed a lot longer than it really was. Bugbears were not much of a problem, especially considering Khelgar's bad moods that made the dwarf cut through them like paper. After a couple of hours sweat- and blood-covered travelers finally found themselves in front of a blank stone wall, hewed out right in the crag. Despite the past years – or maybe even ages – there were still some hints of decorations visible… or it was just an illusion, created by the peculiar crevices in the stones.

What wasn't an illusion for sure is a large built-in rusty metal box with levers protruding from it. For some time they were standing around it, staring thoughtfully, until Adele managed:

"So… any idea what it is?"

"None," Khelgar stated. "Doesn't look like anything dwarves would have created, that's for sure… Too complicated…"

"…And…" Adele scratched her slightly pointed ear. "Nobody knows how it works, right?"

"I can blow it up," Qara suggested.

"We can always get to that," the woman smirked.

"Oh, oh, hold on a moment!" Grobnar suddenly broke in. "I remember hearing about something like this… I think."

The others looked back at him. The gnome was rocking on his heels, staring at the mechanism with his hands linked together behind his back.

"So?" Neeshka finally drawled.

"Huh?" he blinked, looked at her, then slapped himself on the forehead. "Oh, yes, right! Look," he ran up to the mechanism. "You see this lever? It's connected to the grommet underneath the casing, which connects to that gear over there!"

"…And?"

"Oh, you shouldn't have asked," Qara whispered…

* * *

…Unable to hold back any longer, Adele yawned into her fist. Elanee, who was sitting beside her on a rock, leaned her elbows on her knees, propping her head up heavily with her hands. Neeshka twiddled her tail with her fingers and cast a guilty look at Qara, who was burning her to ashes with her glare.

"…And _that_ gear," Grobnar continued, "then connects to the widget you see tucked into the corner over _there_..."

* * *

"…so that connects to the sprocket over there..."

Khelgar, who had almost treaded out a canyon of his own, circling nervously in front of the wall, gave a deep sigh. Casavir seemed to be the only one who tried sincerely to listen to the gnome – but, judging by his hollow stare, was doing it out of pure politeness.

"…which finally leads to the underslung rachety-cog!" Grobnar turned to them and beamed. "And - there you have it!"

Others exchanged glances again and stared back at the gnome. His smile grew wider.

"Have what?" Adele asked.

"Why, an opened door!"

There was silence. Khelgar came to a halt, digging his glare into Grobnar: "Couldn't ya just say that we need to pull a lever to open the door?!"

"Oh?" Grobnar blinked at him. "But it_ is_ what I said."

"…That does it," the dwarf strained. "We bury the gnome here. Alive."

He stomped towards the lever, ignoring Grobnar who was jumping around him: "Sir Khelger, sir Khelgar, wait, there is a tinny-tiny problem…"

"Shove off!"

"This device... well, you see, it does not work."

"What?! What d'ya mean?!"

"Well... the machine is missing a piece I mentioned, remember? The one that is connected to that left pinion…"

"Alright," Neeshka rose to her feet, laced her fingers together and wrenched her joined palms out for show until the joints crackled. "You could have said from the start that it's a lock. The most complicated lock I've ever seen, but still…" she caught Grobnar by the collar and dragged him to the machine. "Where's the part missing?" bethinking, she added quickly: "Just point a finger at the place!"

The gnome obliged, pointing his finger obediently, and the tiefling squatted down to examine the mechanism.

"It's better be something _really_ valuable inside," she sighed, fetching her lock-picks.

"I'll pull off yer tail, demon, if ya take anything, ya hear me?!" Khelgar growled.

"Oh, _fine_. But then this whole thing's a waste of my talents! Qara, sympathize!"

_"I_'d have still just blown it up," the sorceress responded phlegmatically, studying her nails.

"Soooo, guys, hold your breath…" Neeshka bit her lip, carefully turning and pulling the lock-pick.

Something clicked dryly inside of the machine, and the stone wall crawled up heavily, showering the travelers with dust, small debris and scraps of old tree-roots. From the opened dark embrasure came a blast of moist underground coolness.

"Tah-dah!" Neeshka grinned broadly. "So, who's the most wonderful and skilled tiefling here?"

"Aren't you always?" Adele chuckled and looked down at Grobnar. "Nice job from you too."

"Me?" the gnome wondered. "Why? I mean, thank you, of course, but…"

"Just be quiet, please."

"…Alright," Grobnar whispered, beaming at her.

Neeshka gazed at the dwarf, still grinning: "Huh, Khelgar? Who earned a little of gems?"

He scratched his beard grimly.

"…We'll see," he grumbled, entering the cave. "We'll never have enough for ya all…"

The scarlet light of the sun drooping in the west followed them into the cave, illuminating a part of a huge hall with ancient stone walls, twined with silver veins of ore. Khelgar stopped, looking around in apparent awe, but the joy was soon replaced by disappointment as they found that the path deeper into the clanhold was blocked by an old landslide.

"So much for my gems," Neeshka muttered.

"Blow it up?" Qara asked without much hope.

"No way!" Khelgar exclaimed indignantly. "Careful work is needed here, thorough an' painstakin'!"

Adele was slowly passing around the available part of the hall, taking time to have a good look at the quaint tracery of ore veins covering the walls and not hidden even by a thick dust layer – when her gaze caught on a massive chest on the floor, half-strewed with fallen rocks.

"Khelgar!" she called, her voice echoing deeply. "There's something here!"

"What is it?" Neeshka rushed to her first, her red eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oh wow!"

"Hands off!" Khelgar shouted, dragging the chest from under the rock heap and cautiously lifting the wrought lid.

Inside was a pile of dust, snippets of oiled leather and a few rusty links of chain armor. Neeshka snorted: "Some treasure."

Khelgar paid no heed to her words, raking away the dust, and from the bottom of the chest took a pair of gauntlets, dim from the time they spent locked away. The dwarf shook them up almost tenderly, running his palm warily over their surface to brush off the dirt from some old marks in dwarvish…

"Oh gods!" he suddenly breathed out, almost dropping the gauntlets the way his hands shook; his eyes became round. "I… I don't believe it! Our clan thought they'd been lost forever."

"What is this?" Adele asked, crouching beside him.

Khelgar licked his lips in agitation, not able to tear his ardent eyes from the gauntlets: "Well… I'm not the best at clan's history, but I definitely recognize these… They're the gauntlets of Ironfist, held by the first of our kings, Torim. He wore 'em when our homeland fell to the orcs. But…" he cast his eyes upwards, looking around the hall vaulting above them. "But that would mean… this clanhold 's... This must be our first clanhold! The halls where Torim made his final stand. If I had only _known_ this place was here, that _these_ were here!"

"So, these gauntlets… they are kind of your clan's heirloom?"

"Bah, 'tis more than just a heirloom, believe me! No dwarf would have made somethin' without practical value! They say, anyone who gains these gains the strength of ten… no, twenty! It's how the clan earned the name. With these, ya can punch through a stone wall!"

"Why would anyone want to punch a stone wall?" Neeshka wondered.

"Just explainin', 'tis an example, ya dumb!"

"…says the dumb himself!"

"…An' that's just the beginnin'," Khelgar continued, looking at Adele and ignoring Neeshka. "It's said that if the wearer also wielded the Hammer of Ironfist, he could fell dragons with one blow!" he was silent for a while, then shrugged. "Well, it's _said_ so… It must be a good sign that I've found them. It must mean that the Ironfist clan shall reclaim ar home."

"Well, I'm not much of a prophet, but… maybe," Adele shrugged and looked around again, her gaze traveling over the stone vault so high above their heads that it was almost indiscernible in the darkness. "It must have been beautiful here, when all the torches were alight and all that…"

"Aye," Khelgar nodded slowly. "An' to think, I never would have come here, if ya had not brought me into these mountains..."

"Brought?!" Adele laughed. "Please! I was afraid that you'd get here before me, seeing how eager you were to deal with orcs."

Khelgar chuckled: "Ya know, lass… I'm thinkin' ya should take the gauntlets."

"Wh-? No, I can't! You keep them; they belong to your clan after all."

The dwarf looked down at the gauntlets again and smirked, a little abashed: "…I'm far from bein' a king… but it means a lot to me that ya think I'm worthy enough to wear them. I mean it," he stood up, clearing his throat uncomfortably, and raised his voice: "So, I say we go back to Khulmar! Seein' that the tunnel 's sealed…"

"Aw, Stumpy," Neeshka cooed, seeming somewhat touched. "You have tears."

"Shut up," Khelgar growled lowly, without looking at her.

"Now how in the Hells am I supposed to steal those things from you?"

"Shut up!"

* * *

…Adele watched Khelgar talking to his kin with a slight smile. She was glad to see how anger and grudge was bit by bit vanishing between them. Though she still couldn't get why they were so angry in the first place, she accepted it as a simple fact. After all, what did she know about dwarves and their relationships within the clan?

_Maybe that priest in the Temple of Tyr was right about those trials…_

_Maimed…_

Not that she put much thought into what he had explained to Khelgar – only as much as it took to understand things that were important to her friend. She herself was never going to follow Tyr. She didn't mind the god himself or his followers – it was just that one of her own rules in life was "don't judge".

Because the coin always had two sides. What you think right might be unacceptable to others. All people are different. Simple as that.

Well, except for the thing that it was _hard_. It was hard when during gythianki attack on West Harbour she found Wyl Mossfeld wounded and bleeding. But _alive_. Where Amie, her sweet Amie had died, burnt to singes by a blasted gith mage – Wyl Mossfeld, that sorry excuse for a human being, was still alive. For years he insulted her, tried desperately to get under her skin and when she didn't react, began trying to get to her through Bevil and Amie. The guy constantly forced his two younger brothers act the same way he did, probably just because he didn't want to be the only one so ridiculously "bad and tough". Just the day before he broke Amie's face with a club during the Harvest Brawl. And now… wounded, yet alive. What had he done to deserve life where Amie got only death? Nothing. He simply lived. And Amie simply died. Shit happens. Go speak of justice…

It took all her self-control to ignore the whisper inside that suggested leaving him there, leaving him to his last breath – or even slit his throat, so easily it could have been, imply her justice on him… out of disdain, not out of hatred. Really, she never hated him, he was too pitiful to deserve hatred.

Probably, he read it all in her face. And she saved him. She still didn't know what it was, that made her save him – perhaps, that he asked about his brothers, giving a damn about them after all. She even visited him in the field-ambulance Brother Merring organized inside of one of the barns after the attack. To check the state of his health. And taking some cold macabre pleasure in seeing the humiliation burning in his eyes, he himself all too aware of being alive only because of _her_ mercy. Her, of all people! She said she was leaving to Neverwinter. He hissed her safe travel. Not another word was said between them, but they both knew – in this long bloodless battle she finally won without striking a blow.

"Are ya good to keep travelin' these mountains?" she heard Khelgar asked his brothers. "If ya want I could…"

"Our wounds have healed, and you've already given us enough aid. Perhaps we were too quick to judge your allies, Khelgar," Khulmar turned to them and bowed his head. "The Ironfist clan is in your debt, this I swear to you in stone and steel. Such a debt shall not be forgotten in days to come."

"Wow," Neeshka muttered and nudged Khelgar. "That counts me too, eh?"

The dwarf grinded his teeth but remained silent. Khulmar looked back at him: "And Khelgar, if your path lies with them, so be it. But the clan shall await your return."

"It shall not be long, I think, Khulmar," he nodded at Adele. "S'meone just needs to watch out for this little one. She has so many problems – she'd be in a grave already without me."

Adele shook her head: "I'll just pretend I didn't get whom you mean."

"Very well, Khelgar," Khulmar agreed. "May stone shield you from the sky and ale always be at your hand…" he grinned. "But not _too_ much ale. You know how you get after the twelfth tankard," he waved his hand to the rest of the dwarves. "We are leaving, brothers."

"Eh…" Khelgar sighed, following them with his eyes as the dwarves headed up in the mountains. "Whatever ya say, it was good to see 'em again after all this time… So," he looked at the others and grinned, "are we ready to crack some more sculls?"

"Are we ready to continue our way to civilization is a better question!" Qara groaned, mounting on her horse.

Neeshka silently mimicked her and snickered, getting into her own saddle. Grobnar was circling around Elanee, explaining her something, and the druid's face was slowly becoming alarmed with understanding that the gnome made up his mind to travel on _her_ horse this time. The sight made Adele smile and, as they all followed Casavir on their way, she looked down at Khelgar, pacing beside her. The dwarf's face was thoughtful.

"So, big step towards monk, huh?" she asked quietly.

"…Yeah," Khelgar grunted.

"Feel yourself clarified?"

"Dunno, to tell honest…"

"Well, you are going the right way, so it seems," she smiled again. "Doesn't that gladden you?"

"…At least, I met my kin on this way, which's good. And 'tis _ya_ who brought me this way."

"Nah. Maybe it's Fate or something."

"…Maybe. Fate that we met."

"That we _all_ met," Adele pointed. "We wouldn't have got inside of your clanhold without Grobnar… and _Neeshka_."

"Bah, again ya 'bout her! I… she…" he gritted his teeth. "Alright, she's worth-while. Sometimes. For a demon. But still, most of the time I want to smack her pate! But in general tieflings are-"

"How can you know what tieflings are? It's not like you've met all of them. You've met only Neeshka. And she is "worth-while", as you said."

"Pfft… An' what?" he grumbled, but his face became thoughtful again.

"I mean, why judge anybody if he hadn't done anything bad to you. And especially after he did some good."

"…Eh… maybe…"

"Well, Elanee, for example. What did she do to displease you?"

"Nothing, actually. The lass 's quiet, doesn't bother anyone. Well, she's an _elf_, but… Nah, nothin', just kinda surprised myself that I'm not pissed off by an elf. But she still needs to put on some weight – an' fast. Imagine her in breeches with those bony legs… Bah, makes ma stomach churn!"

Adele grinned, still looking at him. Khelgar didn't tear his gaze away from the path.

"You know," the woman drawled. "It may sound crazy, but I think you've just met the Trial of the Even-Handed."

"Huh? Did I?" he huffed. "Why I never notice? Ya sure?"

"Well, _I_ think so…" she grinned and nodded at Casavir ahead. "There's a specialist, by the way."

"Riiiiiiight!" the dwarf smiled broadly and quickened his pace to catch up with the paladin. "Hey ya, lad!"

"Yes?" Casavir turned slightly. "Is there something you wish of me?"

"I do! I need ya to explain me somethin'! An' thoroughly!"


	8. VIII: Long Time To See

**VIII**: Long Time to See

"Hey, you've returned!" Duncan welcomed them cheerfully, coming out from behind the counter, but tarried, looking wonderingly at Casavir: "Good day."

The paladin bowed his head respectfully: "As to you, sir."

Duncan shot a questioning look at Adele: "Well, seems I should prepare one more room?"

The woman smiled a bit guilty: "So it seems."

"If it is uncomfortable to you," Casavir said, "then I-"

"Nah, don't even think of it, lad," Khelgar waved his hand. "Feel yerself at home! All included!"

"I really don't think that is appropriate," the paladin objected. "I was the one to offer my help and so I am the one to bear the expenses concerned with me."

Duncan smiled broadly: "Now _this_ fellow I like! Eh…" he glanced at Adele, sighed and patently melted, moving his gaze back to the paladin. "Alright, friend. Seeing as how I don't take money from the _dwarf_… so my hand won't lift to take any from you, that's for sure. You pay me by helping my niece out, and we are even."

"I shall do what I can," Casavir nodded.

"And so be it then. I…" his eyes darted to something behind Adele's back, then lowered, widened, while his brows shot upwards.

Adele turned back just in time to see Grobnar, who drew one of the chairs to the wall, climbed on it and was now busy with viewing curiously a trophy hog's head above him.

"My, this is so enthralling!" he exclaimed. "Have you seen those tusks?! Look, one of them is turned to the side a little. I thought it just seemed to be from the distance – but no, look, it really is! He must have slept on his left side often. My, nature never ceases to make me wonder!" the gnome tried to glance behind the hog's head, but his forehead met the wall. "Oh, and where is the rest of him?"

"Who is _that_?" Duncan blinked.

"It's Grobnar," Adele explained. "He's… well, _yes_. He _is_ weird, but still… not that we could dump him all alone in the mountains, right? By the way, he's a bard. Not that _I_ ever heard him playing…"

"Oh, indeed!" Grobnar cried, jumping off the chair. "Such a terrible overlook on my part, miss Adele! I tender an apology!" with that he fetched a small lute out of his bag and pinched the strings, looking up into the ceiling. "Hmm, wonder what will be appropriate in this situation… You know, I have at least three melodies in my mind. All of them are priceless in their own way, but the second one is… Oh, no, no, I'm so terribly wrong! _Four_ melodies! Even five! The fifth one, if I recall correctly, I composed when I saw two completely unique butterflies! They were flittering from flower to flower, and by such an interesting trajectory, that immediately reminded me of-"

"That's it!!!" Qara snapped, striking her staff on the floor. "I'm _so_ fed up with it! I'm going to the bath, and you all can burn in Nine Hells! And this small fry first of all!"

The girl stormed out of the room, past Grobnar rattling about something to Elanee, who was again unfortunate to get into his field of vision.

"…Yeah…" Adele looked at Duncan. "He's fine… You just need to learn to ignore him. And, by the way, he's smart about different mechanisms."

"He is?" Duncan glanced at the gnome. "Well, the water-pump in the kitchen gives us trouble…"

"Really?!" Grobnar gushed. "My, that is delightful! Can I have a look?"

"Be my guest…" the half-elf gestured towards the door leading to the kitchen, and Grobnar immediately rushed there. "And what is delightful about that?"

"That we won't be hearing him for the next hour," Neeshka answered with relief.

"You just keep an eye on him," Adele warned her uncle. "The chances are the same that he will repair the pump, break it completely, mine it or turn it into a hydro-press that will blossom with daises when in good moods."

"Tell me honestly," Duncan looked at her, "is there some special place you know where you find all these strange subjects?"

The woman laughed: "Guess, I just have some aura-problems – attract everything unusual. Anyway, as long as Qara usurped the bathroom first," she adjusted her dusty cloak and looked at the others, "you all make yourself comfortable, have rest, and I'll take time to go to the Watch and make sure the emissary made it here without problems."

Duncan sighed and shook his head, looking at Casavir standing closest to him: "There she is, always running somewhere, doing something… How am I supposed to look after her?"

The paladin smiled a little: "Believe me, you have nothing to worry about. Your niece is more than capable of defending both herself and others."

"Why, thanks," Adele smiled shortly in return.

Casavir shrugged: "No need for gratitude – it is simple truth."

Duncan arched his brow slightly, looking at him, then shifted his gaze to Adele, then back to the paladin and smirked so meaningly, that Adele almost felt like throwing a nearby chair at her uncle. But she restrained herself and instead just nodded at parting and left the "Flagon".

The day was surprisingly warm and sunny for Neverwinter, but it only made the woman feel herself even more tired and dirty after the journey. Rock dust seemed to have formed sediment inside her throat, not to mention clothes and especially boots, which were a really sorry sight.

Maneuvering between the sauntering citizens, she made her way to the Merchant Quarter and headed towards the Watch headquarters…

* * *

…to return to the Docks in half an hour in order to deal with the Luskan ship and some assumed spies onboard.

_No rest for the girl in this city…_

It wasn't hard to detect the "Sea Ghost" - if for no other reason than a bunch of watchmen observing its discharge. In return they were watched carefully by an armed to the teeth guard from the pier. The sailors were unloading cargo from the hold under observation of a tall scrawny man in long dark-blue robe, decorated with golden runes and arcane symbols.

"Lieutenant," the familiar sergeant saluted Adele and nodded grimly on the robed figure on the deck. "Things are bad, I'm afraid. They've got someone from the Brotherhood with them. As if we didn't have enough problems around without a damned Luskan wizard. Bred so much, it's surprising all their Hosttowers hadn't collapsed into Underdark from the overweight yet."

"Doing anything suspicious?" Adele wondered, also watching the disembarkation.

"If you ask me, their mere snoots are enough for a jail."

"…Let's get things straight first."

She took her step towards the pier, holding her hand close to the scabbard, but not touching her weapon – the moment you grab the weapon you show the enemy that you are afraid of him.

"You get away from the ship!" the guard barked, meeting her half-way. "We have a free access to the city."

Adele nodded at the ship: "Is she the "Sea Ghost"?"

"Yeah, and what?"

"Luskan boat, right?"

"Luskan, Luskan. If you think the troubles with Ruathym are going to keep our tradeships away, you're wrong. The Watch may shove off. Go catch stray dogs or whatever you are doing."

"Some other visit purposes, apart from trade?"

"We, Luskans, travel where we want and when we want. We wanted to land in your filth-hole – we did. So what?"

Adele shrugged: "Just have a feeling that you have not come for sightseeing."

The guard spat between his teeth: "Saw all your sights the last time, when we burned the whole city to the ground. Was enough for me, thanks. And enough of _you_, Watch hounds. So off you go, girl, until you got yourself cut accidentally."

Adele didn't answer, skimming over the ship, when her gaze met with that of the wizard on the deck. He was eyeballing the woman fixedly, as if trying to remember if he encountered her in the past, then suddenly smiled wryly and leaned over the hand-rail, shouting at the guard:

"Deal with her!"

…_Crap…_

The Luskan unsheathed his blade with lightning speed, and Adele almost missed the blow, but managed to dodge and felt the sword sliding by her side – and the next instant the guard was already attacked in turn by one of the watchmen. The sailors, noticing the fight, immediately left the cargo, and it turned out that every last of them was armed as heavily as the already dead guard.

Adele eluded one more strike and glided aside, keeping her gaze fixed on the wizard. Judging by the way his lips started to move, he was not going to ignore the battle himself. Plunging her rapier into the stomach of another Luskan, Adele pulled out a dagger tucked in his belt and charged towards the ship, swinging her arm while running, and threw the knife at the wizard. It sank into his chest, soaking the robes with blood, the wizard wobbled and doubled over. Adele never looked at him, taking time to fly up the ladder, and as she did she kicked him in the side, troppling him on the deck, and put her blade to his throat.

"Stay," she hissed.

The wizard laughed quietly, letting some blood streak down his chin.

"…If you believe that slaughtering us will somehow protect your precious city, then you are sadly mistaken," he croaked and uttered a gurgling sound that was supposed to be a sigh. "A pity, really… I was glad that my prey came to me by herself…"

Adele tilted her head: "_I _was your prey? Well, nice to meet you too, in that case."

"You crossed the path of a wrong man, girl… Black Garius has grown impatient with you. You will see that… many… _many_ times…"

"What in the Hells does Luskan want from me?"

The mage grinned again, though his face was white as sheet from the bloodloss, and he was obviously having hard time keeping his eyes opened:

"Luskan?" he whispered. "You think that my master and Luskan are one and the same? No… it is a sleight of hands, you see… where the left one does not see what the right is doing... and the Four Hosttowers do not yet see what the Master of the Fifth plots…"

"…What?" she gave him one more kick. "Don't pretend bard, scum, and answer plainly!"

The wizard didn't answer. He was dead.

Adele lowered her blade slowly and looked around, her absent gaze flicking along the deck and the pier, where the watchmen managed to bring down all of the attackers and were now busy attending the wounds. The woman didn't pay much attention to that.

_Garius… Again Garius… Master of the Fifth Tower… What the Hells? There are only _Four_ Towers in Luskan, don't tell me otherwise!_

_Dammit, somebody tell me already what is this huge pile of shit I've stepped into?_

* * *

…She couldn't sleep. Again.

So instead she just lay on the bed in her room, killing time by scrutinizing the blasted silver shards, trying to unite them, put together – but all she got were some unpredictable flashes of blue sparks that made her fingertips tingle. Stifling an irritated desire to hurl the silver junk far into the corner of the room, Adele put them back into her bag and sat up, gulping the last drops from the wine bottle she had took secretly from the bar in the evening.

The wine brought neither comfort nor sleep, so the woman got up, straightened her tunic, pulled on the breeches, slipped her bare feet into the boots and went into the corridor, tousling her loose hair habitually. Her head was empty and buzzed a bit from the wine – but it was ways better than constant thoughts about Luskans, Garius, githyanki, silver swords and walking dead.

It was the dead of night already, and Adele could hear an echo of the ado in the second dining-room, which was a customary gathering-place for many of the patrons and guests after sunset. But as she was advancing the end of the corridor, Adele realized to her relief that the room with the fireplace was quiet and empty.

She smiled at the thought of burying herself in her beloved couch, placing her legs on the fender and – maybe – getting some relax at last. Duncan probably had to stick with the customers, Sal had a day off, so… nothing but blissful undisturbed solitude.

She pushed the door and entered the room…

…only to find out that evil fate had prepared her the worst company possible.

Her first wish was to turn around and leave, but Adele figured it would look stupid. Besides Bishop, who was occupying his usual place in the dark corner of the counter, didn't pay any attention to her, so Adele just slipped silently towards the couch hoping to stay out of that attention further. Wincing a bit as she found the wolf also in his spot near the fire, she sat on the sofa, curling her legs under her, and stared at the flames. The crackling of the wood mixed with muffled voices from the next room was almost appeasing – but Adele couldn't relax completely, as her eyes were willy-nilly falling on the lying wolf. And every time she looked at him, the animal, feeling her gaze, rewarded her with a return grim look of his hooded orange eyes. Despite the fact that he was simply lying with his muzzle on his forepaws, something in his false-relaxed pose told that the wolf was ready in an eyewink to pounce on anybody he may regard as threat.

Letting out a silent sigh, Adele leaned against the back of the couch and - for want of anything better to do – cast a sidelong look at the wolf's master, luckily the ranger sat with his back to her. He was slowly sipping some swill, not giving any clue if he was aware of anyone's presence at all. Looking at him, Adele once more became certain that it was true they said – the animal and his master are always alike. Well, in this certain case it was more Bishop who resembled a wolf, not the other way round. Such a big hungry wolf, lean, tough, and sinewy…

…Adele suddenly felt her insides twirl into a warm trembling knot and fall to the lower region of her body that was instantly filled by a wave of heated blood – and the woman inwardly cursed the idea of getting drunk, which had seemed so wonderful in the evening.

_Yeah, body, that's great. Get mixed up with some bastard in my cups – for the sake of completeness of such a day, huh?_

Taking her breath, she tousled her hair again for the distraction and shot one last glance at the ranger. But that glance lingered on him, when she understood that his resemblance to a wolf went beyond mere appearance. Just like his animal, Bishop only _seemed_ relaxed and calm. His free arm was leaned on the counter with its elbow, yet the fingers were lowered to his longsword, almost – but not quite – touching its hilt. Just as suddenly Adele realized the reason he always occupied the same place at the counter – because on the wall in front of it was an old dull mirror, which reflected almost all of the room behind the ranger, and more importantly - the entrance to the tavern. So he had a possibility to observe the whole place and was obviously ready to repulse any danger.

_So there _is_ danger… Seems the guy has problems. Or – more likely – he is the one who usually causes them, so doesn't want to take the risk…_

The train of her thoughts reached an abrupt end when she came to the last – and the worst – conclusion: that Adele Farlong in all her glory was as well reflected in the mirror.

Blood rushed to her face, but before she could restrain herself she looked up at the reflection – and her glance clashed with cold derisive stare of his amber eyes, which were clearly fixed on her for a long time already.

Bishop quirked up a scar-splitted eyebrow:

"What, has it been _that_ long since you've seen a real man?"

She felt like she was showered with ice-cold water. Sudden anger that rose inside of her – anger at herself for her own stupidity, anger at him for not leaving that stupidity unnoticed – even sobered her up a little.

"Oh yes, for ages and ages already," she drawled. "Really, got so desperate that almost thought _you_ to be one. But if you happen to know any, send them my way, alright?"

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in a crooked smirk:

"Cocky, aren't we? Sorry, babe, no one I know would get interested."

"…So you are saying," she clarified in a feigned thoughtful tone, "that none of the riffraff you apparently know is a match for me?" the woman smiled sweetly. "You know, I _do_ believe you."

"Yeah, it so happened that none of them screw boards."

"Oh, that's good – can get splinters in painful places otherwise."

The ranger chuckled hoarsely: "Well now, maybe you are not completely hopeless," his gaze swept appraisingly over her reflection. "And you _are_ passable… at least in the firelight."

"…Uh-huh… And was _that_ a compliment or an insult?"

"What do you think – seeing how I jumped on you turning over tables and chairs in the way."

"Ah, don't hint, don't hint, I've got that – it was _sarcasm_."

"Now you're learning good. A few more years of practice and you might really pass for a bitch."

"And why would I want to?"

"Don't know. But you are trying so hard, so I decided to encourage you a bit."

"The best indication that I've done nothing to be proud of."

"Pride is a deadly sin they say."

_"Bishop_ knows better, I guess."

"Always."

"Bet you have a lot of friends," she smiled again. "It's probably from them you are made to _hide _here."

Amber eyes narrowed a bit: "Careful there, little princess."

Adele felt her smile become gloating – and realized it was actually long since she was _that_ angry: "What, a blow below the belt, ranger?"

"For that you'd've been dead already."

"Suggest trying harder?"

"Nah, I'm not in the mood today. When I am, I'll give you a whistle," he bottomed his mug and smirked, looking back at her reflection. "So stick around."

"Ah, I'd love to," she sighed, rising to her feet and heading past him to the corridor. "But, unfortunately, it's already twenty minutes since I'm bored."

"Fine," Bishop nodded, following her with his eyes. "Me too, so it's about time."

"Time for wh-?"

She wasn't able to finish her question as his arm snaked around her waist, and he got up, jerking the woman to him, almost crashing her against his chest with strength that drove air away from her lungs. Instinctively she tried to slap him, but he caught her hand effortlessly, pressing her wrist to his shoulder.

"So," his wry smirk somehow sharpened. "Your room or mine?"

Adele stamped his boot, fiercely driving her heel into his foot, making him hiss and using his instant distraction to break loose from his grip, and recoiled, drawling through clenched teeth:

"You want a slut, ranger, you go to the brothel."

Before he could answer, she left the room in quick steps, doing her best not to run and actually expecting him to follow. Yet he didn't – and Adele could swear that she heard his chuckle as she left…


	9. IX: Githyanki, Go Home!

_A/N: This chapter is somewhat of a test – by request of readers (;-D) did my best to use quotation marks in direct speech instead of dashes. The reason I never did it before is simple – while I'm relatively good in English grammar and vocabulary, I'm a __total jerk in English punctuation. So… have mercy. But if it works out fine, don't mind writing the same way from now on._

_Enjoy, feedbacks are appreciated, as always. _

_P.S.: And – yup, Del is a lefthander :)_

**IX:** Githyanki, Go Home!

…A knock on the door awakened her from another delirious dream evoked by alcohol… and everything else that happened the previous day and what she'd been glad to regard as a dream too. For some time Adele just sat on the bed, trying to grasp if there _was_ a knock at all - until it recurred. Snatching her clothes from the floor, the woman got dressed hastily and shouted, "It's opened".

Neeshka's horned head poked into the room.

"Morning," the tiefling grinned. "Didn't want to wake you up, it's early, I know, but… well, there's someone here to see you."

"Who?" the woman asked suspiciously, as if she expected a visit from Black Garius himself – whoever he was.

"That guy, Cormick, who's kinda your boss or something. Said it's something urgent."

"Damn," Adele put on her jerkin, fastening it on her way as she followed Neeshka into the main room.

On the threshold she tarried, realizing that if the damned ranger was still in the room, she would just lie on the floor and die.

Neeshka looked back at her, eyeing the half-elf questioningly, and the woman shook her head dismissively and entered the room. Discovering to her relief that Bishop - as well as his wolf - was absent, she gave a nod of welcome to Duncan and Sal behind the counter, Elanee curled in the chair, Khelgar who was gobbling up his breakfast at the table, and Qara sitting on the couch idly and feeding her weasel from her hand. Cormick was standing near the counter, and as the woman entered, advanced her with a troubled look on his face. Despite that he was her superior, the fact that they were both from West Harbor never left any seniority or affectation in their relations, which reminded more of those between distant relatives.

"Adele," he greeted her.

"Something happened?" she wondered, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. _I bet something did._

"We've just received word from the Nine. They believe there are assassins in Neverwinter."

"More Luskans?"

"No, these are not native… far from it," Cormick cleared his throat. "Anyway, we were asked for our help in dealing with them."

"So, you want me to help the Nine in…?"

"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that, Adele. The thing is, Captain and I made some inquires with our intelligencers in the Thieves Guild… These assassins had already turned to the thieves in order to find their target… and according to the description the target is you."

Duncan blanched. Adele just closed her eyes wearily.

"Now that's going too far!" Khelgar exclaimed. "What in the Hells had ar lassie done to piss off the whole Faerun!"

"I don't know," Cormick answered, still looking at the woman. "But we decided that it would be best to inform you about that before any actions are taken."

"Just my luck…" she whispered and sighed. "Will I ever be left in peace?"

Casavir entered the room and stopped, regarding everyone present with a guarded glance. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Neeshka threw her hands up in frustration, "There are assassins after Del!"

The paladin looked point-blank at Cormick, "I hope the Watch is going to do anything about that?"

"Of course!" he answered. "There's no way we're going to allow some creatures harm one of our finest men."

Adele's eyes flung open, "_Creatures_?"

"Yes. They are no human beings. In the Guild we were told that they are some unknown skinny scaled creatures…"

"Githyanki," Elanee whispered and shook her head. "From bad to worse."

"So they made their way here, finally," Adele muttered. "Damn…"

Cormick shrugged, "I have no idea how you've managed to get yourself so… interesting enemies, but they are after you. Don't know what they need, though."

"And you don't want to, believe me."

"Strangely enough, I do. Anyway, what they need is enough to want you dead."

"We shall not allow that to happen," Casavir stated.

"Yeah, like Hells we will!" Neeshka added. "Those gith didn't get enough from us if they're still asking – but they will!"

"Listen…" Adele looked at Cormick again, "Does the Watch know their… location?"

"Well, it seems to be in the north of the Merchant Quarter, not far from the warehouse you had taken from Moire's gang. Want to go there with the rest of our forces? I can understand that…"

"No," Adele licked her lips, "Please, do your best to delay the Nine or anyone else from any actions. Buy me some time."

Cormick blinked at her, "You want to deal with them by yourself? But they _are_ after you. They'll be expecting you."

"Nope. They know I'm in Neverwinter, but not _where_ exactly. Otherwise they would have been all over the tavern already, not looking for me through the thieves".

"Figures..." Neeshka nodded, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.

"Well, and since they want _me_, then that's exactly what they'll get," Adele saw Cormick frown at her statement and smirked: "I don't think I'll antagonize them more than it already is. And don't want anyone from the outside to get involved or hurt."

"Apart from you," Marshall pointed grimly.

_What, I can put myself to harm only at someone's order?_

"She will not have to face them single-handed," Casavir assured him. Or her?

"Sure!" Khelgar grinned. "Almost missed those beasties – it'd be nice to pack a dozen of 'em!"

"Why bother?" Qara raised her voice from the couch. "If we know where they are hiding – let's just torch the house and roast them inside."

"But we don't know if there will be anyone else inside," Elanee pointed. "We need to be careful. But it _is_ true that the githyanki pose too much threat to everyone. We can't allow them to leave."

"And we won't," Neeshka snorted. "Hells, I _hate_ those guys!"

"Or maybe we should just talk to them!" Grobnar declared from behind the table, where Adele didn't even notice him at first. "They can't seriously intent to do harm to miss Adele! I mean, why would anybody on Faerun want to do that at all?"

The woman couldn't hold back a smile, "Thanks, Grobnar, but I'm afraid it's exactly the case."

"Is it? Strange. No, I'm absolutely positive it's unbelievable! But – oh, well."

Cormick chuckled, looking at Adele: "Well, what can I say… you are lucky to have your friends. We'll do our best to keep the Nine. Report once you have dispatched them. And… well, be careful."

* * *

…The gith chose the place for their lair more than cleverly – there was not a living soul in this part of the city, packed with sheds, warehouses and long abandoned buildings, hanging over the river. Even the Watch seemed to avoid this particular corner of Neverwinter.

They checked few of the empty lop-sided estates, until finally found themselves in front of a desolate structure that used to be a storehouse in its past.

"They are here," Neeshka whispered. "I can… scent them."

"Many?" Adele asked in the same low voice.

"Hells know. But the scent is rich, that's for sure. I can sneak in and check…"

"No, don't risk," she drew a deep breath. "Alright, moving in."

Opening the door, they entered a strange shade, dense, quaky, and shimmering with green.

"Something is in the air," Elanee murmured almost mutely, her eyes hooded. "Something… not of nature, not of this plane."

"Feels like a magic shield of some sort," Qara muttered and jerked her shoulder perplexedly. "And doesn't at the same time."

"Maybe they just made the air here… more suitable," Adele suggested, remembering about gith's inability to stay long out of their home plane. She looked at the paladin for support, and he nodded thoughtfully:

"Perhaps. So that dwelling in our Plane wasn't such a… torture for them."

"We'll give 'em torture, they just hafta wait," Khelgar grinned, rubbing his palms with a quiet creak caused by his gauntlets, and took the axe from his belt. "Got the habit of ramblin' to ar world. Wrong habit."

"Yes, and-" Grobnar started, but Elanee standing closest to him reached out and swiftly covered his mouth. The gnome blinked wonderingly, looking at her above her palm, but the elf just shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

"We should proceed," Casavir stated quietly, turning to others, and hesitated: "Adele?"

The woman didn't react at once – she didn't even get at once that she'd been addressed to. She was just standing and looking at them, and felt pleasant warmth inside of her, warmth that was soothing – even if it seemed crazy at the moment. There, behind the door, were the creatures from another Plane wishing her dead. But here, in front of her, were those who wished her live. Those who were ready to risk their lives fighting _her_ enemies.

Why?

_I__ don't care… I don't care why. Even if it isn't because of me… I don't care for reasons… I love them now. All of them. 'Cause they are here, with me…_

_Gods, father – what is it you like so much about your solitude?_

She smiled and, as her eyes met with the inquiring blue stare of the paladin, shook her head slightly, regaining her senses and at the same time making it clear that she was fine. Casavir shrugged a bit baffled and nodded at the door.

"I have a simple proposition," Qara pointed. "You all open the door and scatter out of the way, and I throw a couple of fireballs in there."

"Better have patience for now," Adele replied, and the girl glared at her:

"_What_, I'm sorry?"

"I just have serious doubts that they are keeping their main forces behind the first door. Or you want to squander on trifles?"

Qara pursed her lips and finally shifted her shoulder haughtily. "Well, yeah, point… You take all the giblets, I follow behind."

Adele smiled inwardly at how actually easy it was to hold Qara and her overwhelming power at bay – all it took was to stroke her feathers the right way and let her think that the idea of holding back was her own. The woman nodded at the paladin, and Casavir opened the door. She stepped into the corridor right after him and Khelgar, hearing behind her back almost imperceptible rustling of Neeshka's footsteps as the tiefling made a dive aside, blending with thick shadows.

Shivery greenish haze suddenly seemed to start to deplete, dissipate, and, looking back for a moment, Adele saw Elanee's lips moving silently. The druid's bright eyes were hollow, eyelashes fluttered slightly, and the woman could swear that the air around the elf was getting clearer. Adele moved a bit, shielding Elanee with herself to give her time and opportunity to continue to disperse the atmosphere of githyanki's lair. Maybe it could weaken the creatures themselves.

Grobnar checked his small light crossbow and readied a bolt, murmuring some song under his breath. Adele remembered her initial shock as she had saw the gnome with weapon for the first time – before that the mere idea of Grobnar harming anybody seemed wild. But then again, he _had_ kept himself alive somehow before they met him.

Qara, bringing up the rear, was casting quick glances from side to side, as if looking for something or someone she could put on fire finally. Adele saw tiny sparkles of flames flaring along the sorceress' fingers and her staff, and only hoped that the girl would manager to keep that fire bubbling inside of her long enough.

Some noise rang out deep within the building, followed by familiar gnashing of giths' voices, and Adele tightened her grip on the rapier. It appeared that the creatures felt something was wrong with their protective air-field.

The door at the end of the corridor opened, letting out a quartet of giths, who were probably sent to check things up. Casavir and Khelgar struck simultaneously, bringing down the two of them at once. The third creature rush to the attack, obviously not hoping to defeat superior forces, but to give chance to the last gith to fall back and alert others. Which he did.

Or rather _would_ have done, if his colorless fish-like eyes hadn't caught the sight of Adele.

"_Kalach-Cha!"_ he hissed and with astonishing speed and fury darted towards the woman.

The paladin's sword gashed his belly, but that didn't stop the gith, didn't even slowed him down – he jumped forward, forcing his way through Casavir and the dwarf as if it wasn't his blood flowing down his legs. Adele made a stride towards him, at the same time stooping down to avoid the slashing hit of his blade aimed at her throat, and lunged from below to throw the githyanki back, right on Khelgar's axe.

"That's a foolhardy fellow," the dwarf remarked almost approvingly, wiping off the blood from his axe.

_Guess they want me dead much more th__an to live themselves…_

She had no time to evolve the thought as the room behind an opened door lit up with a blaze of white-blue radiance of magic, and its shafts shot from the doorway, flooding the corridor and sending their band flying like rag-dolls. Adele's shoulder hit the wall, she heard a dry click of a joint dislocated and grimaced, feeling her arm growing numb.

"Back off!" Qara shouted almost triumphally, putting her staff in front of her, and bended a bit, taking a firm stand.

As the ray of magic reached her, it hit the shield she cast and scattered, surrounding the girl with a shining hemisphere. The strength of the blast made her grind her teeth but never wiped off the grin from her paled face, and the sorceress took a few heavy steps forwards, driving the light back to the door. Under the shelter of her magic shield, Neeshka snatched out one of her throwing daggers and hurled in the doorway, probably aiming at the gith mage who was the reason for the conundrum. There came a raspy yell, and the light faded immediately.

Not wasting time, Qara started to the room, scratching the point of her staff across the floor, as if it was a match, and striking a whole wave of fire from the battens underfoot. The flames flew into the doorway, sweeping away several giths. The survivors were finished by Casavir and Khelgar, those two making a wonderful fighting team.

Wincing from pain again, Adele shifted her rapier to the right hand and followed them, to run up against a gith who lurked behind the corner. Reflexes true to her, the woman jinked, when the githyanki himself suddenly stumbled and fell forward. Adele managed to pierce his neck before his body touched the floor, and looked at Grobnar who put another bolt into his crossbow instead of the one fired to gith's knee and with the familiar unruffled cheerfulness paced into the room. Looking back at Elanee and making sure the elf was in one piece, Adele fell into his steps.

Crossing the threshold she narrowed her eyes unwillingly, catching sight of blinding white-violet glare of some kind of magical portal, trapped between several stone wedges, high, bowed and dappled with runes. Beside it towered some boxes, chests and cases – all broken, mouldered, probably left there from the time the building served as a warehouse, not a lair for extraplanar invaders.

The invaders themselves, clustered in the room, were at present more interested in the unexpected attack than in their portal. Taking in the situation, Adele slipped to the side, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, and delivered a blow to the nearest gith who escaped death from Casavir's sword, then slashed open the throat of the other, stealing up to unsuspecting Qara. The sorceress was too occupied with her spells to give note to her might-have-been killer, which made Adele smirk…

…when all of a sudden the portal blazed up even brighter, and within its lambent shroud became faintly visible the outlines of something huge, metallic…

"Oh my," Grobnar breathed out in pure rapture.

A giant blade swished through the air, cleaving the nearby giths in halves, and a thing bearing resemblance to a colossal suit of armor stepped through the portal into the room. His upper extremities ended in long sharp blades without any handles or gripes – mere extensions of the arms.

The giths, stunned by the incursion no less than Adele and her companions, came to consciousness faster and immediately lashed at the new threat. Their swords clanked against steel, yet caused neither damage nor even any visible discomfort to their opponent – while two massive blades cut through their flesh effortlessly, coating the floor with dark sticky blood.

Elanee uttered a few words, sending a bolt of lightning right into the construct's torso. It gave a creaking lurch, but kept its balance, moving to the druidess and trampling the remaining giths under foot.

"Oh Hells," Adele heard Neeshka's whisper. "_What_ is it? And what in Abyss should we do with it?!"

"Actually, we can aim right there," Grobnar said, pointing his finger at what supposed to be the construct's neck. "You see, miss Neeshka? There are those tiny shining runes; they create a sort of magical closing and the whole construction-"

No longer paying attention to his words, the tiefling tossed one of her daggers in her palm and pitched it to the place the gnome pointed at. With a jingle the knife bounced off from the smooth metal surface, but Adele noticed that a couple of runes, giving one last glitter, faded away, and the construct came to a halt. Jumping on the opportunity, Qara hurled a fireball into its head that made it sway and move back a little. Khelgar, arriving just in time, dealt a shattering blow to the construct's knees, making it fall back – right into the portal. The blades scratch the stone wedges…

…and the room was lost in dazzling flash of white.

Instinctively Adele turned away and bent over to hide her face and head from the flying flinders of the portal's bearing. One of them hit her back, and she heard Qara's abrupt shout – though it sounded more like a cry of indignation than pain. When the light faded, Adele stood up straight, opening her eyes and staring at the sorry remains of the portal. Others were also silently goggling at the ruins, towering over githyanki corpses.

"What in the Nine Hells _was_ that?" Qara finally exhaled, switching her widened eyes to others.

"Just to make sure my eyes aren't lyin' to me," Khelgar drawled in unnaturally even voice, not tearing his gaze away from the debris, "a huge suit of armor _did_ smash through here, attack the githyanki - and _us_ - before we drove it back into that portal... right?"

"Yup," Neeshka muttered, astounded. "That's about right."

"Good," the dwarf nodded. "'Cause if it's my drinkin' catchin' up with me, I'm stoppin' right now."

"It was created by the hands of men" Elanee shook her head. "I've never seen a thing like that before, that is for sure."

"Why... that was a golem!" Grobnar gave a jump. "A golem with blades… Wasn't he magnificent?! The construction... the elegance... the sheer _sharpness_ of those blades... the work of a master craftsman indeed! We should follow it!" he lapsed into silence for a second. "I mean... if the portal was still open. Which it's not. But to let it get away before taking a good look at it… Why, we're truly missing out!"

"No, thank you very much," Adele gave her head a startled shake. "Whatever it was, I'm glad it's not here anymore."

"The golem attacked us as well as githyanki," Casavir observed, and the woman looked at him. "That means there is a third party involved."

"…Not that it gladdens me, but guess you're right," she sighed, slipping her fingers into her hair and rubbing the back of her head furiously in hopes to ease drone in her scull. "Alright, people, we take what anyone needs and get away from here. Don't want any other monsters appear and find us."

Neeshka happily threw herself in turning out pockets and bags of the fallen enemies. Qara with slight curiosity was examining a locket from the dead giths mage. Adele were watching them, moving her damaged shoulder uncomfortably from time to time and flinched from sudden spasms of pain, which appeared in unison with the usual dull ache in her chest.

"You alright?" Elanee asked, noticing her gesture.

"Seems my shoulder's out of joint."

"Let me have a look."

"Nah, let's get to the Flagon first. I'm fine, really. Thank the gods, I'm only a bit worse in fight with my right arm," she moved her shoulder again. "Or I have even a better idea. You all go to the Flagon without me – and I'm going to save the time and meanwhile go to the Watch. I doubt that Cormick and Brelaina will manage to throw dust in the Nine's eyes for long…"

* * *

…She did her best not to _skip_ back to the Flagon, as the visit to the Watch finally yielded long-awaited fruit – a pass to Blacklake District. Well, her still aching shoulder was one the reasons preventing her from skipping – and any others too jerky movements – so, not reaching the tavern, Adele turned to Sand's shop in order to buy some painkilling potion or ointment.

Entering the shop, she sank into familiar semi-darkness filled with the most diverse smells, which made her nose tickle and head dizzy a bit. After a few minutes of looking for Sand, Adele at last found the elf behind an enormous pile of books, where the wizard was busy collating them, checking the spines and making some notes in a thick journal.

"Good day, Adele," he greeted her, regarding the woman with a fleeting gaze and returning to his records. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Need some healing stuff."

"Gaping wound, superficial, internal bleeding, no bleeding, magical damage or-"

"…Uh, just a dislocation, actually. Some painkiller is fine."

"I see," he shut the book and turned to one of the shelves filled up with numerous bottles, jugs and vessels. The spotty cat jumped down from the shelf to his shoulder, but the elf didn't pay attention to that. "Just a moment. It was here somewhere…"

"I'm in no hurry," Adele answered, tilting her head so that she was able to read the titles of the books. Not that those titles meant anything to her, but natural curiosity took the best of her as usual. After studying several of them, she blinked vacantly and shook her head slightly, looking back at Sand. "Oh, by the way, I've got permission to visit Blacklake."

"Indeed? My congratulations. And best of luck in making contact with Aldanon," something close to a jeer rang in his voice, but when the elf turned back to her his ever-young chiselled face was as nonchalant as usual. He placed a couple of flat tins in front of her. "There you go. Twenty-eight golds. Rub in twice a day. And I highly recommend keeping it in warmth, otherwise the essence of brahn might crystallize."

_Essence of what?_

Adele hemmed. "Well, good to know."

A thin knowing smile ran across his lips as if he saw her thoughts. "Everything is good to know," he scratched the neck of the cat still sprawled on his shoulders. "Anything else?"

"Guess not," she took the tins, laying the coins out on the counter, then hesitated. "Listen, have you by chance heard anything about a certain guy named Black Garius?"

His tapering fingers, busy with counting gold, lingered in the air, while the elf himself stared into space thoughtfully.

"The name _is_ familiar…" he drawled, frowning a bit. "I believe he is a wizard of the Hosttowers of the Arcane… Yes, definitely, a low-level one. Or _was_, better to say. I heard he rose quite much."

Adele arched her brow in surprise. "You had some dealings with the Arcane Brotherhood?"

"The true rulers of Luskan? No, no more than any other wizard in this region. I have no suicidal propensities – and to deal with the Hosttowers is to invite death, either slow or quick."

"But you seem to know a lot about them."

"…Then I shall exercise my privilege to be evasive on this matter. Bear in mind, my dear, that in this city one does not talk of dealings with them – merely saying the name can draw scrying to you," he looked her over, before his icy-blue eyes met hers again. "Why would _you_ even ask of them, hmm?"

Adele smiled: "Killed one just now." His thin brows rose a bit in surprise and almost appreciation, but Adele shrugged, "And I _shall_ keep the rest to myself, thanks for your advice."

"Oh," shadow of disappointment crossed his face, yet he made a non-committal gesture. "That is up to you, of course. Above all, pieces of advice from me are free of charge."

Smiling again, Adele nodded him at parting and left the shop, looking at the ground absently as she walked to the Flagon.

It seemed that this Garius fellow was scheming something… Something bad, it's clear as noonday. The worst thing was that she had crossed his path somehow – already and without even knowing about that. Well, _he_ surely knew that.

Adele rubbed her lids, advancing the entrance to the tavern.

_Oh, the Hells with Garius… I've got enough on my hands without him._

She intended to push the door on her way when it suddenly opened, and Adele bumped into the man who was coming out. Cursing under her breath, she lifted her eyes…

…and froze.

Bishop was staring point-blank at her indifferently for several seconds, then raised his eyebrows: "So?"

"So - what?"

"You're getting out of the way already?"

Swallowing another curse rising in her throat, she folded her arms: "Ladies first, they say."

Nothing changed in his face, yet his eyes flickered with amused sparkles, as if he wanted to smile or laugh but decided not to – instead he bent a bit forward to her and whispered: "Don't see any ladies around."

Adele opened her mouth to answer something – anything – but Bishop already drew himself up and in one swift stir of his arm pushed her aside, like brushing bread-crumbs off the table, and passed by, followed by his wolf who shot Adele single sullen glance. The woman clenched her teeth and looked back over her shoulder, but the ranger and his animal were no longer in sight – probably disappeared in the nearest alleyway. Shaking her head in irritation, she entered the tavern.

In the room she found only Duncan and Elanee, who made herself comfortable in her favorite armchair. Noticing his niece's morose look, the half-elf came up to her.

"Now that's not the face of someone got rid of her enemies. What happened?"

Adele just motioned at the door. "Every time I run into the guy I want to wash myself afterwards."

"Who, Bishop?" Duncan shrugged. "Don't mind him, he treats everyone like dirt. No surprise there – dirt is his life. He spends most of his life digging through it looking for tracks."

"Well, Elanee spent most of her life in the woods too," she nodded at the elf making her smile. "But she has manners nonetheless."

"Eh, don't mind him like I said. May even consider yourself lucky – even his insults are a step up from how he usually treats people."

"Uh-huh. Steps over and moves on?"

"Not over, but right onto," Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder. "Anyway, he gets too rude to you – let me know. Won't take him insulting my kin."

Adele chuckled involuntarily. "Like he'd listen to you."

"Like he has a choice," Duncan muttered, staring at the door.

The woman looked at him quizzically, but the half-elf merely shook his head:

"He… owes me, so… Well, it's a long tale, not worth going into. But again, he goes too far – let me know."

"…Oooookay," Adele answered with a bit taken aback smirk, surprised by this sudden fraternity protectiveness and stepped up to Elanee. "Have a look at my shoulder?"

"Of course," the druidess made her sit down on the couch softly and, as Adele took off her jerkin, carefully pulled the tunic down her shoulder. "Oh, it's not scary."

Adele bit her lip in advance, expecting pain as the elf started to reset the joint, but her cautiousness appeared to be in vain – Elanee's fingers seemed to emit warmth that spread over muscles and reduced any pain possible just like it had eased the ache in her ribs few times before.

"Pull out your arm," the elf said, and Adele obeyed, dragging her arm out of the tunic through the opened neck and using her free hand to hold the shirt on her breasts while the elf rubbed the damaged shoulder carefully.

Casavir entered the room. "I see you have…" he began, but stopped and averted his eyes. "Beg your pardon."

Adele couldn't hold back the chuckle: "It's fine, things are decent," she lowered her voice so that Elanee could be the only one to hear her. "Well, at least there_ is_ one well-mannered man in the world still." The elf smiled.

"I've got a pass to Blacklake," Adele continued, not addressing anyone in particular. "So I say we meet that Aldanon as soon as possible. Where's everyone, by the way?"

"Neeshka is in her room," Elanee answered. "Sorts out everything she was able to carry off from githyanki lair. Khelgar is in the kitchen. And Qara said that she won't appear in anyone's presence in her present looks, so she took some money and left to Merchants' quarter for clothes."

"Well, let's hope she'll find the prices to her liking – or the Watch will never water down the whole district," Adele put the tunic back on her shoulder and got up. "And where's Grobnar?"

Duncan rolled his eyes: "Thank the gods, I was able to interest him in the arrangement of our refuse burner. How did you manage to find the only Faerunian bard who doesn't play or sing? Instead he constantly goes on how I can improve the ventilation in the tavern or suggests setting an induced air-draft over the fireplace. Am I the only one who thinks that the lad chose the wrong profession?"

"Everyone is free to choose his own way," Casavir shrugged and looked at Adele. "So we are bound for the Blacklake District?"

"Uh-huh," she muttered, lifting her jerkin from the couch and studying it. "After I'm done with tidying this thing up."


	10. X: Rescuing the Blonde

**X**: Rescuing the Blonde

The guard studied the papers Adele gave him, nodded and, without turning around, banged his foot to the high cast-iron gates of the Blacklake District.

"What?" came the voice from the other side.

"Here's visitors. With permission from Captain Brelaina," he answered and returned the papers to the woman. "All in order, lieutenant. You and your companions will be escorted to Aldanon's place."

"Thank you," Adele smiled, watching the wings of a gates opening slowly.

They stepped into the district through the opened chink, leaving the noise of the Merchants' quarter behind their backs. The guard on the opposite side of the gates gestured silently for them to follow, and they moved up the street, ascending a small paved hill, littered with impressive mansions of the nobles.

The streets were quiet, no one apart from the guards wandered between the trees in shady alleys powdered with first fallen leaves of early autumn. In the middle of the district there was indeed a lake, round, pure, enclosed with an ornamental fence of white stones. Following the soldier, they took right from the street that led further up, skirting the lake and running to the hilltop, where a huge imposing building stood out against the sky.

"Academy," Qara hissed, jerking her head in that direction. "Wonder if a throw a fireball from here…"

"Better don't," Adele advised in whisper and smirked, pointing at the guards with her eyes. "Not now at least."

The guard escorting them stopped in front of a three-storied mansion of red bricks.

"Aldanon, you said," he nodded at the front door. "There you go. Just don't expect too warm a welcome, though. The old guy's eccentric at best… Anyway, I'll wait here while you talk to him."

"Thanks," Adele passed him by and took a hold of a carved knocker, giving a couple of bangs at the door.

For a minute or two there was no answer, then came the rustling sound of footsteps, and an unexpectedly buoyant voice asked: "Yes? Are you here with the delivery?"

"Mister Aldanon? We're from the City Watch, wanted to ask you some questions."

"Oh? And what happened?"

"Nothing, but… wanted to get some information from you that might help us out."

"Oh, but of course, of course! One moment while I remove the wards… always ready to help the Watch, you know. And information is a love of my life you may say. Just one more… right, all disarmed, I think. Come on in!"

The door swung open, and they found themselves in a large, scarcely alight anteroom, which seemed almost dark after the sunshine outside. Blinking several times so that her eyes could adjust to the dim light of the only lamp standing on a table between two armchairs, Adele turned back. The door behind them was closed by a short old man dressed in a long crumpled robe. After fiddling with the lock for some time, he finally faced his guests and smiled broadly. His disheveled hair and short tousled beard were so white, that his wrinkled face seemed to be packed in flocks of cotton wool. His eyes sparkled with almost childish liveliness, the look was absent-minded but cheerful, and there was something about that look… something Grobnarish…

Adele suddenly felt a great relief at the fact that they had left the gnome in the Flagon with Elanee.

"Come in, come in," Aldanon started fussing around the room, whisking some books off the chairs and the couch right to the floor. "Have a seat. Please, forgive my rather rude questions at the door. I would never intentionally stand in the way of the City Watch… well, unless there was nowhere else left to stand, really… but that wouldn't happen unless there was a flood. I must confess, normally I'm rather, well, reclusive. Not that I dislike people, mind you - quite the contrary! But lately with all the troubles... a murderer on the loose and young nobles sneaking around, up to who knows what..."

Adele cleared her throat: "Mister Aldanon-"

"No, no, I _know_ it sounds foolish, but lately I've seen figures sneaking around in the dark - and not that well-meaning sort of sneaking either. I know what they want, mind you. My house, of course. As if I would ever sell it, ha! Ridiculous. I'd sooner give up my left eye. But my right annoys me at times, so that would be an easier sell… You see, back when I first settled in Neverwinter, my humble abode was on the outskirts of Blacklake, bordering acres of untouched wilderness. Now, with Neverwinter being rebuilt following all that plague nonsense – bam! - and my house is right on the main thoroughfare of the "rich" part of Neverwinter. All the nobility wants to live in Blacklake, but there's no more room…"

Khelgar sitting behind Adele all of a sudden shuddered. The woman shot him a questioning glance, and the dwarf muttered: "Just imagined what'll happen if to get him drunk."

"Uh-huh… together with Grobnar."

"You two surely have sick fantasy," Qara shivered.

"…so lately they've been trying various ways to convince me to sell my land," Aldanon continued, shifting his frighteningly joyous stare from one of his guest to the others. "First they tried offering me _ridiculous_ sums of gold. Why would I need more gold?"

Neeshka gave a quiet sigh. "Wish more people would give that question a little thought."

"Next they tried making loud noises late at night. But I need little sleep, so the only thing they accomplished was scaring away the nightbirds that raid my garden - for which I thanked them. But now it gets absolutely ridiculous - I look out in the middle of the night and see them there, in the dark, watching me!"

Adele cocked her head to her shoulder: "You sure these are nobles?"

"Of course! Who else would sneak around my home?" he fell silent for a second. "Well, present company excluded," his eyes flared up. "Oh, that's right - you came here for a reason, yes?"

The woman breathed out in relief: "Yes, thanks for reminding, almost forgot myself. I was told to… seek your counsel on some matter. You see, a few weeks ago my native village, West Harbor, was attacked and…"

* * *

When she finished, Aldanon's eyes were lit up with such childlike gleefulness like he was having hard time not to dance.

"Great Tyr, what a tale!" he clapped his hands. "This is absolutely wonderful!"

This totally Grobnar's exclamation made the others choke with stifled laughters. Even Casavir's ever-stony face cracked into a repressed smile. The old man paid no attention to that, staring at Adele, who had to bit down the corners of her lips to keep a straight face.

"The moment you arrived I _knew_ I'd be interested in meeting you! Wish I'd known that when I first greeted you, would have saved some time! But you've certainly come to the right place. A while ago I found another shard, with properties similar to the ones you possess!"

"…Where did you find it?" Adele wondered, taken aback.

"Well now, I'm sure it would make for a fascinating tale! Except that I don't remember…" he engrossed in thoughts. "Someone had to have given it to me, right? Hmm… I remember a well-dressed man, perhaps nobility… though I'd never ask such a personal question! He gave me this shard, asked me to study it and report my findings… Now that I think about it, he's never returned for the answer. Not that I had what to give him! And I never did catch his name, so I wouldn't be able to find him, either… Irrelevant - since, like I said, I haven't been able to glean any useful information from my single shard. I've done every possible test on the shard, but learnt little. However, I've never had another shard to compare it against! If you'd like some answers I'll gladly run some tests on your shards - I have just enough quicksilver left to do it."

"…Alright," Adele passed him the pack cautiously. "But I expect to get them back."

"Oh, sure, sure!" Aldanon took the bundle from her and disappeared behind the door, with a light oozing from under it.

"…_Wow_," Neeshka drawled. "A fabulously tiring Grandpa."

"Yeah," Adele smirked. "Now I get Sand's irony when he said I could _try_ speaking to Aldanon to find out anything."

Qara made a grimace: "Don't even mention that name… By the gods, that smug arrogance… asking me about the Academy, my studies – how dare he?"

She had no opportunity to add anything as at that moment something hissed in the next room, then exploded, and Adele gave a start, feeling a tang of pain in her chest.

"I knew it!!!" Aldanon exclaimed, running out of his lab in a cloud of reddish smoke. "Oh, this is marvelous! These shards contain latent magical energy! It is either caused by a strong enchantment from when they were whole, or from their method of destruction. Furthermore - the shards resonate when they are brought together, increasing their magical energy output accordingly!"

"…I've no idea what he said," Khelgar confessed with a grunt.

Aldanon flourished the bundle with shards with triumph: "These shards are pieces of a broken githyanki silver sword! Are you familiar with the githyanki?"

"…Skin-deep, let's say," Adele replied.

"Ages ago, the ancestors of the githyanki were human, and inhabited another plane where they were enslaved by the illithids. Then came Gith. Little is known about her outside the githyanki, but she led the rebellion to free her people of the illithids, and is considered the hero and founder of the githyanki people."

"Uhm… concerning the sword?"

"Oh? Oh, yes, yes, thank you for reminding me. The githyanki silver swords are forged with the special purpose of severing the silver cord that connects the form of an astrally projecting traveler to his or her material counterpart. They look like a regular githyanki weapon, until used in combat, at which point they turn into a column of flowing, shimmering liquid. Really quite amazing, I'm told."

"But we've fought the githyanki," Casavir pointed, bending a bit forward in his chair. "And none of their weapons had the properties you describe."

"Oh, _common_ githyanki would never possess a silver sword. These swords are rare and highly prized. They are given by the Lich Queen to only the greatest of githyanki knights. When one of their silver swords falls into the hands of a non-githyanki, they will go to extraordinary lengths to recover it."

"…You have our evidence of that," Adele shook her head. "Well, I do understand that they want to recover the priceless relic of their people and all that, but I have only _pieces_ of the sword. What would they want with a broken sword?"

"I don't' know," Aldanon shrugged. "I've never heard of one being broken before. It could be that the githyanki are as interested in how it was broken as they are in reclaiming the pieces. But that is my mere suggestion. Ammon Jerro could tell you more…"

"Who?"

"Ammon Jerro. He was a court wizard of Neverwinter, decades ago. I met him a few times. He was a nice fellow... a little absent-minded, with a tendency to drift off the subject... He reminded me of my old mentor, Master Grahler. Had the largest collection of noisy, exotic birds, made quite a racket you know, chirping and squawking..."

"Oh gods…" Qara groaned, dropping her face into her hands.

"What?" Aldanon blinked, coming back to reality, and smiled. "Oh, yes. Anyway, Ammon Jerro was the real expert in githyanki and their silver swords. He actually possessed one! Though I have no idea how he got it. He was a gentle sort, so I doubt that he stole or killed for the sword."

"Is there any way to find him?"

"Hmm, well, he's dead now – so I doubt finding him will help you much," he sighed. "You know, when word of Ammon's death reached me, it was from a messenger, who heard it in passing. The nobles who ruled Neverwinter at the time must have assumed I would simply _know_ if another scholar passed away, for they had not mentioned it to me - it was almost an afterthought. But it is sad… really sad in this age when the passing of a humble scholar and indistinct court wizard barely warrants a footnote in history. It makes me wonder... will anyone remember me when I'm gone?" he gave another sigh, but his eyes lit up again quickly. Seemed that Aldanon simply wasn't able to be sad for a long time. "Though I learned later that it was partly due to what Ammon's family wanted... and what had been requested by the deceased - to enter life quietly and to leave it the same way."

"But, perhaps, there are any… researches of his left?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it! I wanted to uncover them. But, unfortunately, any information Ammon had on the githyanki was either lost to the grave, taken far away by his family or locked in his Haven."

"Haven?"

"Yes, it was a private retreat of some sort, where he went for solitude. I know it exists, but I don't know where. His family might know, but they were said to have moved away from Neverwinter after the war with King of Shadows. Oh, those were dark, confusing times, so much death and chaos – all brought about by some self-proclaimed "King" of Shadows…"

Adele gave a deep patient breath: "So, about Ammon Jerro…"

"Oh? Oh, yes, yes! What about him?"

"Is there a possibility to find someone of his family?"

"Well, I suppose the Neverwinter Archives, here in the Blacklake District, might possess some information. They typically keep noble family records in the secured archives… I petitioned to be allowed to peruse them, but I was denied because... because, well, some silly misunderstanding regarding misplaced books that somehow ended up in my possession. You can try to petition for access also, which would take several weeks," he fell silent, deep in his thoughts again. "However… there _is_ a way... Ask the guards at the archives to speak directly with Archives Administrator Cotenick. He has been known to let me in... quietly, on occasion. A nice man, really understanding."

"Got that," Neeshka rose to her feet. "Thanks for your help and all that. Guess, we need to go," she looked hopefully at Adele.

"Oh, I see," Aldanon smiled. "I had no intention to take much of your time."

"…yeah," Qara grumbled.

"Thank you for your visit and for letting me chat with you. Quite enlightening really. Good luck to you. Oh, and do be careful - I plan to raise my wards again after you leave."

"Mmm…" Adele smiled. "The shards?"

"Oh, yes," he handed her the bundle. "By the way, you may take my shard as well. Its previous master is unlikely to come back for it. And I've no use for it any longer – since I've already discovered what it is."

"Thank you."

The woman took the shards from him and lingered a bit before putting them back in her pack. Even through the cloth they were wrapped in she could feel with the tips of her fingers the coolness of the shards, like pricking of tiny icy needles – but it was a strangely _pleasant_ coolness, slipping under her skin, through her veins, to the heart, where again something ached slightly in response…

"Adele?" Casavir called her, and the woman looked up at him with a start. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she tucked the bundle into her pack. "Yes. Let's go. Thank you again for your time, mister Aldanon."

"Oh, not at all!"

The guard outside met them with a puzzled glance: "You surely took your time. Almost fell asleep. So, you are ready to leave?"

Adele nodded: "Of course. But on our way can we make a small trip to the Archives?"

"…Well... actually, my orders are to take you straight to Aldanon and back out again, lieutenant…"

"Just on the way," she shot him a bit pleading broad smile, which made him predictably smile back. "I won't be able to stand getting caught up in red tape again to get another pass for a five-minute visit to the Archives. You know, all that paperwork…"

"…Well, yes, but…"

"If you want, you can go in with us – to make sure we are not plotting anything."

"Fine. I mean, not that I don't trust you, lieutenant, it's just…" the guard shrugged. "Oh, well, I suppose it would be alright. Just a short trip, though!"

He led them along the lake, down the street, until they reached a long building without a single window. Crossing a small garden in front of it, they approached heavy stone doors which opened relatively easy, letting them into silence and smell of book-dust.

"Urgh," Qara winced. "Hate libraries…"

"It is so quiet in here," Casavir remarked, his gaze sliding over the endless rows of bookcases and shelves as they passed them by.

"Not many visitors since the District is closed," the guard answered. "I personally…"

He stopped, stumbling over something, and looked underfoot, his eyes widening.

It was a robed man's body, blood leaking from the slit neck hadn't even clotted yet.

"Seems to be the Archive worker," Neeshka said.

"Damn…" Adele unsheathed her rapier, looking deeper into the building, then turned to the guard. "Find men, as much as you can. Now."

"Will do, lieutenant," the guard saluted and darted off to the street.

Exchanging glances with others, Adele nodded in the direction of the main hall, and they moved deeper into the Archives. Coming across another body in the corridor, they went around it and entered the major book depository.

Silence still reigned among the cases and shelves, disturbed only by a distant paper rustling as if from the pages being turned over…

Placing finger over her lips and gesturing for her companions to stop, Adele noiselessly approached the opened doors to the central part of the Archives…

…when she heard a rasping voice, which stroke her as suddenly familiar:

"We have the location of the Haven."

Holding her breath, the woman peeped into the room.

The gith. They were rummaging about among the pile of papers, turned over chests and shelves – and in the middle of this chaos, with a large book in clawed hands, Adele saw exactly the mage who led the attack on West Harbor… and killed Amie.

"Interesting… There is another Jerro," the gith creaked, following some lines in the book, then in one swift motion tore the book apart. "Zeeaire will want her. Wipe out all mention of the thief, then rejoin the others."

With those words the mage threw scraps of the book on the floor and vanished in a blink. Waving her hand to her friends to follow, Adele rapidly strode into the room, having no desire to allow the rest of the gith get away. One of the githyanki tossed his head up, noticed her and shrieked: "The _Kalach-Cha_ is here! Kill her!"

Adele parried his attack, stepping aside to let forward Khelgar, who landed a fatal blow at the enemy. Casavir, coming alongside with them, cut off the head of the gith in one slash of the sword, then deflected the attack of another, beating off his blade with a shield and by that giving Adele the opportunity to pierce the gith through. Looking back for a second, Adele noticed Qara's lips starting to move – and the next instant Neeshka launched to the sorceress with a scream: "Wait, no, here's books everywhere!"

"Damn you!" Qara barked, blundering her spell, and shook her head furiously. "So what?! Good riddance!"

"We were lucky that they hadn't left larger forces here," Casavir said, looking at five corpses.

"Pfft, an' what's "lucky" 'bout that?" Khelgar grumbled.

"Guess they hadn't expected opposition," Adele muttered, picking up the destroyed book and without much hope trying to put torn pages together. "Gods, who can understand anything here now?" she turned several shreds upside-down, throwing away others, joined them and frowned. "No, wait… Seems that… Yes, here it's said that Ammon Jerro has _one_ living relative… Shandra Jerro, Highcliff…"

"Shandra Jerro?" Neeshka echoed behind her back. "Isn't that the girl who got her barn burnt 'cause of us?"

"Small world," Khelgar grinned.

"You've burnt someone's barn?!" Qara laughed. "I can't even believe you can reproach _me_ for anything after that!"

Adele didn't pay attention to them, thinking frantically.

"…The gith are probably on their way already… Damn, damn, damn… Well, if we take the horses…" she looked up at the others, marking how the dwarf and the tiefling winced at the mention of horses, and nodded. "Alright, Khelgar, Neesh, you stay here, wait for the Watch and explain them what happened here. Casavir, Qara, we're after Shandra."

The paladin nodded in agreement. The sorceress just shifted her shoulder indifferently…

* * *

…They crossed the bridge and by the Main Road got to Highcliff for several hours at full speed. The sun was already low in the sky, when they took turn near the town to the farms.

"There!" Adele gestured the direction, seeing a glimpse of the black shell of burned barn.

Reining her horse back, she jumped off, looking around. Casavir caught Qara sliding off her horse as well, and they both came up to Adele, also staring at the large field behind the farmhouse with a rickety scarecrow stuck up in the middle. Placing her hand above her eyes to cover them from the sunlight, Adele peered into the distance until far off she finally saw a lonely figure, moving slowly through the field with a sickle in her hand.

"Shandra!" the woman shouted, rushing towards her.

Shandra jerked her head up at the sound of someone's voice, but before she could figure anything another scream wafted from the hill: "There she is! Capture her! Zeeaire wants her alive!"

Casavir and Adele dashed to Shandra, while Qara blurted out a spell, hurling a jet of flame to the githyanki running down the hill. Most of the creatures were sent flying by the fireball, yet the three of them managed to break through to the woman, who froze in the middle of the field. She backed away, but instinctively hit straight from the shoulder the first gith to run up to her, ripping his chest open with her sickle – an then, using the halt, took to her heels towards the house. But halfway she stopped sharply, her widened eyes catching the sight of Adele and the paladin. The gith, loping up to her from behind, caught Shandra by the waist, but she wrenched herself free, falling on her knees – and Casavir, arriving in time, brought down the two of the remaining enemies. Adele stooped down, grasping Shandra's elbow and helping her to her feet.

"What…?" Shandra mumbled, lifting her gaze, and, seeing Adele's face, jumped back, swinging her sickle defensively. "_You_ again?! Stay away!"

"Shandra, look, there's no time to explain, but you have to go with us."

"What?! Where?! I'm not going anywh-"

Above their heads flew a fireball, followed by Qara's shout: "Behind you!" Seemed that the survived githyanki, coming back to their senses after the first magical attack, didn't intent to give up.

"Why won't you all just leave me alone!" Shandra groaned, moving back, and darted towards her house again, the giths at her heels

"Hey!" Adele screamed to them, hoping to get their attention off the woman, and threw her hands in the air. "_Kalach-Cha_!"

One of the githyanki stopped, looking at her, and grinned: "The girl and the _Kalach-Cha_ - both within our reach," he turned to others. "Three with me, the rest capture the girl alive."

"…Damn, didn't work," Adele took a step back, her eyes following the creatures running to the house.

"I shall take them," Casavir said, stepping between her and the approaching gith. "Save the girl."

"Alright, be careful", she clapped him on the plated back and, waving to Qara, rushed to the doors.

Together they ran into a small corridor, all doors leading to the rooms flung open in haste.

"Break the door!" came a raspy gith's shriek. "She's in there!"

Adele and Qara went at the sound; the sorceress gave a sharp blow with her staff to the scull of the first gith jumping on them from round the corner, and Adele finished him off with a stab in the throat. Stepping over the corpse, they entered the dining-room, meeting with two more gith trying to force the locked door. Without giving them a moment to collect themselves, Adele glided between them, plunging her rapier deep into the side of one and kicking another under his knees to make him fall and kill already on the floor.

Pressing her forehead to the wooden door, Adele caught her breath and knocked softly: "Shandra?"

No response.

The front door creaked, and in a heartbeat Casavir stepped into the room. "Everything fine?" he asked.

"In a way," Qara snorted, placing her staff flat on her shoulders and throwing her arms on it.

"I have defeated those outside, but, I'm afraid, more of them can show up."

"Shandra, open up, please!" Adele drawled. "Quickly!"

Again no response. Adele glanced at Casavir, and the paladin, getting the hint without any words, hit the door with his shoulder, forcing it and getting access into the bedroom.

The first thing they saw was an empty scabbard hanging on the wall above the bed. Shandra herself was standing in the far corner, glaring at them and holding a short sword at ready.

"Don't come any closer!" she snapped, her voice quavering a bit. "I've no idea what you want, but-"

"Shandra, please, listen," Adele took a step towards her. "We are here to save you!"

"Are you? And…" she froze, opening and closing her mouth helplessly, eyes glued to something behind the woman. "No…"

Adele and Casavir turned around to see small tongues of flame breaking from under the back door.

"Not guilty," Qara declared immediately.

"Some of the githyanki must have stayed to make an ambush," Casavir stated grimly. "Now they want to smoke us out."

"That's…" Shandra took a huge gulp of air. "That's my house! First my barn, now my house?!"

"Tell me somebody, what is wrong with stone buildings?" Qara rolled her eyes.

"We should leave, now," Adele grabbed Shandra's shoulder, ignoring her mechanical attempt to break loose. "Come on, damn you! We're all going to burn here!"

Coughing from the smoke flowing into the room, Casavir opened the nearest window and got out first, on the way thrusting his sword into the body of the gith awaiting them. Qara was the second to move out of the house and immediately stepped aside, repelling the blade pf another creature with her staff. Adele joined them, and together they managed to finish all the attacker – luckily, the forces left were not that large.

With hollow eyes Shandra watched the fire licking the roof of the house and a column of smoke rising into the darkening sky.

"Yeah…" she sighed. "Well, my barn and home - both burned to the ground," she shot a glance at Adele and others. "Any more of your help and all of Highcliff will be the next to go to the Hells."

"We didn't want to-" Adele started, but Shandra waved her off in a chafe.

"Like that matters. Alright, bid you farewell and all that. You've made your point, I'm moving to Highcliff."

"You can't stay here, you should go with us."

"Why's that?! I barely know you! But what I _do_ know is whenever you show up, trouble's not far behind. So, I think, you go there," she gestured absently at the horizon, "and I'm going my way. For better."

"Listen! We _are_ trying to save you, dammit! Is it that hard to believe in?!!"

Shandra tilted her head, which made her tousled straw-colored hair sweep her shoulder, then shrugged vaguely: "Well, I guess you could have killed me if you wanted to."

"Those creatures can come back. We need to leave."

"And you know a safe place?"

"Yes, in Neverwinter there is-"

"In Neverwinter?" the woman snorted. "The only safe place you can think of is in _Neverwinter_?" she screwed up her eyes tightly, lapsing into silence, then shrugged again. "Well, why not. My barn's gone, my house is gone... Are we leaving right away?"


	11. XI: Necessary Evil

**XI**: Necessary Evil

During their whole way back to Neverwinter Shandra kept grim silence, squeezing the reins and staring straight forward. The rain that started on the approach to the city did nothing to improve her mood.

When, drenched, chilled and tired, they at last entered the Docks District it was late night already. Stabling horses under the awning, still in silence they went into the Flagon, filled with pleasing warmth and smell of something roasted.

"Well, isn't this much better?" Adele smiled at Shandra, hoping to cheer her up at least _somehow_. Shandra looked around gloomily, but didn't answer.

"Finally!" Khelgar exclaimed at their arrival. After studying them with a scrutinizing stare, he gave a vexed grunt: "What, did I miss a whackin' battle again?"

Shandra shot him an angry glance, but again did not respond.

"You alright?" Elanee asked.

"Yeah," Adele nodded. "Sort of."

"Tired, huh?" Duncan said sympathetically, coming up to them, but stopped, noticing Shandra. "Well, I see you've brought someone new?"

_He sounds like I'm gathering an insect-collection. Gods, sometimes I _feel_ like that too._

"Oh yes," Qara groan, passing Duncan by and falling on the couch not far from Neeshka. "_Brought_. Almost dragged by the hair."

The tiefling raised her brows in surprise at her remark, looking at Shandra with newfound interest. Adele gestured between her uncle and the woman: "Duncan – Shandra, Shandra – Duncan."

The half-elf smiled: "Please, lass, come in, come in. Make yourself at home. You'll be safe here." he turned on his heels towards the gnome, who was dangling his legs in an armchair. "Grobnar, don't you just sit there! Play a tune or something, make the lady feel welcome!"

"Why, of course!" Grobnar beamed gladly. "I was just thinking-"

"Look, we don't need another lecture on what passes through your head and out of your mouth! Just playalready!"

"Well," Shandra muttered absently, Duncan's attempts to cheer her up obviously failing as miserably as Adele's, "the innkeeper certainly runs hot and cold."

"He's my Uncle," Adele answered, waving to Sal to get her something to drink. "You can trust him. What would you drink?"

Shandra gave a deep sigh: "Alright, listen. I agreed to let you bring me here - now I want some answers. What happened at my farm? Who were those creatures?"

"Githyanki."

"Uh-huh… And why those gathi… gethy… why they attacked me?!"

"They didn't want to kill you, they needed information."

"From _me_? What could _I_ possibly know that could be important? I lived on that farm all my life! Did they want to learn how to milk cows?!"

"Oh, Hells," Neeshka gave her head a shake. "Now, _that_ image will give me nightmares…"

Adele looked at her, then burst out laughing; a bit hysterically – but the picture of the gith milking cows was more than she could handle sanely at the moment. Obviously, she was not the only one, as others laughed too, even Casavir chuckled quietly, closing his eyes and rubbing the lids.

"Sorry…" the woman muttered, looking at Shandra. "Just imagined those creatures… nevermind," she choked another laughter down into her fist.

Shandra folded her arms sternly: "Well, I'm really glad I'm amusing everybody around here."

"Sorry," Adele said again. "Guess it's from the nerves…"

"Nerves?! Like it was _your_ house burnt down!"

"Shandra, I am tired and angry too, alright?" Adele drawled coolly, giving way to her weariness and frustration. "We've spent the whole day dealing with gith – not only on your farm, but two times before that. I _am_ sorry for what happened with your home, but I am also sorry for Casavir who took a stand against the four of those creatures to give us time to bring down those who followed you into the house. I am also sorry for Qara, who has bath-longing in her eyes for several hours already," the sorceress silently lifted her hand with her thumb up in agreement. "If you want to know, my home was almost burnt down by gith too. My whole frigging homeplace was almost burnt to the ground by gith. My best friend was killed by gith. So we can spend the night complaining about the things we can't change and accusing everybody around – or we can calm down and try to figure heads or tails out of the present situation somehow. My choice is the second. Yours?"

Shandra opened her mouth to protest or answer – but obviously couldn't come up with any words. Adele ripped down the fillet holding her hair, allowing all the shock of black-and-white locks fall heavily on her shoulders, tousled them nervously and sat down on the nearest chair, accepting the glass of wine passed by Neeshka from Sal. The tiefling herself looked aggravated, her red eyes narrowed at the blonde woman as she sat beside Adele in a kind of silent support. Bottoming the glass, Adele smiled briefly at Elanee, feeling her soft palm touching her back encouragingly and comfortingly, then looked back at Shandra:

"Sure you don't want to drink anything?"

"Shandra," Casavir chimed in, his deep voice as calm and confident as always. "We realize this is difficult. But I swear to you, we want to help you, not make more trouble."

She glanced at him, then shifted her eyes back to Adele and shrugged a bit uncomfortably: "Well… Alright, I'm sorry… Guess, the whole thing's hard to take all at once."

Neeshka snorted and muttered under her breath: "A little paladin charm sure calmed her quick."

"But still..." Shandra licked her lips. "I still don't understand what those beasts wanted from me."

"Well, the case is…" Adele waved to Sal again for a second helping of wine and bent forward in her chair, placing her elbows on her knees. "It so happened that you are a relative of Ammon Jerro."

"Ammon Jerro?" Shandra repeated in clear surprise. "Well, yes, he was my grandfather… or my great-grandfather... or was it my great-great-grandfather? I mean, I don't even remember him. Heard he was an eccentric but humble wizard... Mother said he used to play with me when I was a babe," a suddenly soft and absent smile passed over her lips. "He would cradle me, sing to me, and I would… pull out his beard hairs."

"Eh," Khelgar grumbled. "Ya just keep yer distance from me, lass."

Shandra shook her head, bringing her disheveled hair to complete disarray: "Anyway, he died a long time ago. What does _he_ have to do with all this?"

"He had some kind of a secret laboratory, a Haven or something like that."

"Haven?" she shrugged. "Don't know. My mother told me about the Haven when I was a child, but I… never truly believed. She always threatened to lock me in there if I wasn't a good girl. Said it was like… don't know… a hundred twisting corridors jumbled together into an inescapable labyrinth, filled with the deadliest traps and evil beasts conjured from the Abyss… or something like that."

"Well, this Haven exists. And we… like the gith… need to get in there. And you are the only living relative of Ammon Jerro."

"But I have no idea where it is. Besides, mother said something about a... path you have to walk to get to it, and getting into the Haven itself requires a pint of Jerro blood…" she stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in panic. "Now hold a moment! Is that _why_ you rescued me?! So you could _bleed_ me?! No way, heard that! You brought me into the city full of guards, and if I scream…!"

"Shaaaaaaaaaandraaaaaaaaaa," Adele pleaded, feeling that she was close to banging her own head into the wall. "We said nothing like that…"

"…and not all of us is fond of your presence, believe me," Neeshka added dryly.

Shandra shook her head again: "Anyway, if you all think you can drag me to some dark dungeon that used to give me nightmares - think again!"

"…You've said yourself, that Jerro was "eccentric but humble"," Adele said as calmly as she could. "Why would his Haven be such a scary place?"

Shandra fell silent, blinking confusedly, then pursed her lips: "Hmm... you know, I never thought of it that way. You may be right… Damn, why didn't I think about that when I was a child?"

"So, you don't even have a slightest idea where it can be?"

"…Alright, look," she rubbed her face wearily. "I'm so tired, I can barely think - let alone stand. Let's talk about all this tomorrow, okay? Maybe I'll come up with something."

Neeshka cast a questioning glance at Adele: "Is she _staying_ here?"

"Perhaps we should retire. We all could use the rest," Casavir suggested, looking at the others, then nodded to Shandra. "I believe Duncan has rooms upstairs."

"Of course I do," the half-elf answered. "As many as needed."

"Oh..." Shandra smiled briefly. "Uh, thanks for the hospitality... uh, Casavir, right? I appreciate it, really."

"No need for gratitude," he replied with a slightest shake of his head. "After all you have been through, it is the least we can offer."

"That _I_ can offer, he means," Duncan corrected. "My inn, you know - always eager to help a lass in distress we are, here at the Sunken Flagon. So don't you worry," he pointed at the door to the rooms. "Straight through the corridor, up the stairs, second room to the left – and you'll get your rest, no problems."

Shandra nodded and, smiling shortly again, headed towards the door. For a moment Adele considered following her, trying to have a talk just between them, but thought better of it. Shandra clearly needed to be alone for a while. At least Adele in her state would have wanted exactly that. So instead the woman came up to the counter, taking the glass filled by Sal, and smirked, looking at Duncan, who couldn't tear his gaze away from the door where Shandra disappeared.

"Uncle, Uncle," she drawled teasingly, arching her brow. "You keep yourself in hands, please."

"Oh, go to Hells," he waved her off, unable to hold back the grin. "Sal, I'll drink one too."

* * *

…Worn out by tiredness, wine and hot water, Adele actually fell dead asleep right in the bath, her legs thrown over the edge of the tub, her head resting on the wooden bolster. She slept so deeply she didn't even have any dreams…

…and when there suddenly came a shout from the corridor, she didn't come to her senses at once either.

"Alarm!!! Alarm!!!"

The woman opened her eyes, staring into the dark ceiling, and for a moment she got the impression that she was back in West Harbor, attacked by gith after the Fair, and everything that happened after was just a dream.

"Everyone, to arms!" the voice shouted again, and Adele suddenly recognized it as Duncan's voice. "The Flagon is under attack!"

She practically rolled out of the tub, wincing a bit from the ache in her shoulder, still sensitive even after Sand's remedy, grabbed her clothes piled on the floor, pulled on the breeches, the tunic and rushed into the corridor barefoot, unsheathing her rapier on the way.

Above her head, on the second floor, the doors were slamming, she heard tramping, yells. From the main room came Khelgar's happy war-cry, indicating that the dwarf had found himself a battle. The door not far from Adele opened a little, a frightened face of some of the patrons peeped out, but immediately hid back, the door closed, and the woman heard the click of the lock.

_What's going on? Bandits?_

She dashed to the main room, when down the stairs leading to the second floor ran four githyanki. Adele stopped, almost deciding that she's hallucinating, but the creatures instantly fell on her, proving their absolute reality. The woman jumped back, deflecting two lunges at once, and went down, dodging the third. Without straightening her legs, she moved to the side, managing to slash one of the gith, and stood up swiftly, sinking the blade into the stomach of another. He fell dead, yet his comrades barely acknowledged the fact, pressing Adele hard.

_No, three at once is too much of a challenge_, she thought, slowly stepping back and parrying the strikes to keep the attackers at arm's length at least.

Something whizzed near her ear, and the gith's scull was pierced by an arrow, then the second one, the third; the forth one already reached another gith and plunged into his neck before he could evade it. Not wasting time, Adele finished off the last one, turning around, and was stunned.

Bishop, without looking at her, sent one last arrow into the head of the brought down gith – just to make sure he'd never rise.

"Thanks…" the woman muttered mechanically.

The ranger paid no attention to her, swiftly passing by, on his way yanking his arrows free from the bodies, shoved them back into the quiver behind his shoulder and turned to the common room. Adele grimaced: "Oh, not at all, you're welcome, always ready to help…"

Shaking her head, she shifted the rapier to her right hand to lighten the work for the left shoulder and also headed towards the room. On the threshold she had to back away to avoid a fireball, flying past her and crashing into the opposite wall, scattering to millions of sparkles. Instinctively trampling the closest ones with her wet foot, Adele stepped into the room, instantly thrusting the rapier into the back of the first turned up githyanki.

Inside of the room was chaos. Neeshka was jumping from one turned over table to another, dodging the attacks and throwing her daggers. Casavir and Khelgar, making a good fighting team, cut off the creatures they could reach. Qara, disheveled and half-dressed, in pure ecstasy was casting one spell after another. Grobnar was running hither and thither along the counter, not so much busy with getting rid of the attacker as enjoying the whole scene before his eyes – though it didn't prevent him from firing his crossbow at occasion and kicking off those gith who came too close. Elanee, pale but concentrated, also hurled spells at the creatures. Bishop, gliding effortlessly between the enemies, had already flung his longbow on his back and was wielding a longsword and a hunting knife he usually kept stuck in the quiver's belt across his chest.

With three strikes killing the gith that ran up to her, Adele swayed to the side, as the familiar wolf tore along by her side, leaping at another creature, knocking him off his feet on the floor and tearing his throat. All the turmoil left no chance to reckon the numbers of the attackers, and Adele decided not even try to, moving along the wall and finishing off those who dashed to her. She couldn't complain on the lack of enemies, as the gith, catching sight of her, at once darted to chop off her head – and she just prevented them from doing it. Mechanical interchange of attacks and dodges and parries absorbed her so much that she didn't even realize at once when all the creatures in the room were dead.

"Eh," Khelgar dried the blood on his cheek and grinned. "Good mornin' everybody."

"We should make sure that no one of them remained on the second floor," Casavir stated.

The dwarf nodded in agreement, and the three of them together with Neeshka left to the corridor. Adele caught her breath, looking on the frightening jumble around, a scrap-heap of broken furniture, snippets of curtains and corpses of the damned gith. The wolf sitting not far from her was licking the dark gith's blood off his muzzle with apparent displeasure and sometimes sniffed the air around – but without any tension, which was good.

"You alright?" Elanee asked, approaching Adele.

"Yeah… Ah, no," she corrected, only now, after the wave adrenalin flooded back from her blood and brain, feeling a tang of light pain in her hip. Lowering her gaze to a slit on her breeches-leg above her knee, the woman winced. "Nothing serious, just a scratch."

"Anyway, it was fun," Qara noted, turning over the bodies with her staff.

"It was so… thrilling!" Grobnar agreed, looking at the others with shining eyes. His messed-up hair, protruding in all directions as usual, glistered with blood – but, judging by the color, it was not his blood. "I am not even sure I can find proper words to frame it!"

"…which is just fine, if you ask me," the sorceress snorted.

Bishop kept silence, wandering slowly among the corpses, and sometimes stooped down to pick up something. A couple of times he took the gith's long narrow blades, weighed them in his hand appraisingly, then shook his head and dropped them back on the floor, not paying any attention to the others and their conversation – as if he felt himself alone in the room. Unlike Adele and others, the ranger didn't look like he had been raised from his bed unexpectedly in the dead of night – he was in full gear, his leathers thoroughly adjusted and fastened…

_Bet he sleeps__ in full equipment, - _Adele though somewhat smugly_. - And washes too…_

"All done here?" Duncan asked, stepping into the room on stiff legs. His cheek was cut, customary apron stained with dark blood. The half-elf was carrying a sword which Adele had seen previously among the trophies on the walls. "Just jumped out of nowhere, bastards… Good no one got hurt at least."

"Yeah…" Adele sank into the nearest armchair. The excitement of battle was fading away, and the woman felt her knees become a bit feeble. "I'm for a drink."

"Even I am," Elanee added in a sham-grim tone, and Adele chuckled.

At that moment Neeshka flied into the room, her eyes huge, her tail swishing furiously, almost lashing against the tiefling's legs.

"Shandra's gone!" she exclaimed.

"What?!" Adele sat erect in her chair rapidly.

"She's not in her room. There's her sword, some blood on the floor, turned over chair, opened window, but no Shandra!"

"They took her," Casavir added with somber certainty, following the tiefling into the room. "Those that had attacked us were probably just a diversion."

"Damn," Adele shut her eyes, drooping her face into her palms.

"The lass's been taken?" Duncan breathed out unbelievingly. "But… how…?" not able to come up with words, he planted a full-hearted kick on the nearest gith's corpse. "How in the Hells did they even get into the city?!"

Bishop, standing over another dead body at the far wall, sniffed scornfully: "Does _that_ matter? You'd best hurry if you want to get her back."

_Oh, __bravo, what a sound idea_, - Adele thought angrily, looking up at others for a second to see the reflection of her own slightly panic anxiety on their faces, then laced her hand into her hair in a habitual gesture, shifting her stare down at the corpses. - _Alright, focus, girl. We've destroyed their lair in Neverwinter – means they came from elsewhere._

Doing her best to brace and nerve herself, she started to recollect frantically everything Daeghun had ever told her about tracking…

"You just look at that," she heard again the same mocking voice of the ranger, and the others unwittingly stared at him, watching as Bishop unhurriedly, almost lazily bent down to pull something out of the dead gith's sole and clicked his tongue: "This one had a sprig of Duskwood trapped in his boot. That means they came from deep within Luskan territory," his every word was trickling with an aloof scoff, as if he was made to explain rudiment things to a bunch of idiots. "And that's where they'd be returning to."

Adele shook her head miserably, having a sinking sensation of inevitable appear in the pit of her stomach…

_We need help… _His_ help… Dear gods, what have I done to all of you…?_

"Luskan?" Duncan repeated, apparently coming to the same conclusion his niece did, and turned to the ranger. "That's _your_ territory, Bishop."

"Yes," he answered, still standing with his back to them, not even trying to pretend that he was bothered with what was going on. "But it's not my problem. I'm not going into Luskan territory for some farmgirl," his voice changed a little, became colder, as he added: "And certainly not with any kin of _yours_, Duncan."

Adele almost twitched, as if being slapped, and pursed her lips grimly.

_I'm right here, you son of a bitch._

She started to draw herself up from the chair, but was surpassed by Casavir.

"The life of an innocent woman is at stake," he snapped, glaring into the ranger's back. "If you _can_ help…"

Bishop turned round, looking at him with surprise and contempt at the same time: "Looks like I overslept the moment this tavern became Tyr's Temple," he quirked up an eyebrow. "Or you think I care for what happens to that wench? Not my problem, paladin. If she couldn't defend herself then let her rot."

"Dammit," Adele spat out. "We'll pay you, ranger!"

He never looked at her, staring again at her uncle: "What, is your whole family deaf, Duncan? Like I said: _Not. My. Problem_"

Duncan tossed his head up a bit: "You'll help them, Bishop," the notes of steel confidence suddenly rang in his voice. "Whether you like it or not."

"Will I, really? And what makes you th-?"

The unexpected silence was almost palpable. Duncan didn't move, still staring point-blank at the ranger, unblinkingly and wordlessly. Bishop's amber eyes suddenly narrowed to slits glittering with freezing fury, sharp lines of his cheek-bones becoming visible under his skin as he clenched his jaws, letting out a hiss: "So, that's it, is it? Calling it due, Duncan?" he tilted his head slowly to his shoulder. "Are you _sure_?"

"If that's what it takes to move you to do the right thing, then so be it," Duncan cut off firmly, folding his arms.

Adele was crossing her glance from her uncle to the ranger and back, trying to figure out what was going on. The former was still standing upright, as if not even noticing the incinerating glare of the latter, while Bishop's fingertips were insensibly stroking the hilt of the sword. Duncan's stare was cold, unmoved, and for the first time Adele actually saw that the half-elf _was_ Daeghun's brother. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the wolf shifting slightly on his spot, keeping his eyes glued to his master, his ears perking up, like he was getting some feeling others could not grasp…

…_Not good, not good, not good, not good…_

Bishop's glare was drilling through Duncan for one more heartbeat, and then the ranger snapped his fingers, making others give a start from unexpectedness: "Fine! It will be worth it to get rid of you – and for such a small price too." He spat on the floor and bared his teeth in a malevolent sneer. "You are a _fool_, Duncan."

The half-elf nodded: "So be it."

"Alright," the ranger stepped away from the wall, kicking aside the chair that got in his way, and eyed their band with another disdainful and a bit irritated gaze, like a pile of rubbish he was made to drag to cesspit. "Ten minutes for packing. Someone gets late – I don't give a damn. Follow my lead and don't try to be clever. If the Luskans catch us – they'll use us for target practice," his wolfish grin became even wider and harder as his eyes slid down Adele, and he added insinuatingly: "And the women won't be even _that_ lucky."

Adele narrowed her eyes on him in warning, but he paid no attention to that, again running his glance over her companions and raised his brows in mock perplexity: "And whom are we waiting for? Ten minutes are ticking away!"

"Listen…" Adele stepped on him, but he just grabbed her shoulder:

"No, _you_ listen, princess. You want your pretty little friend back – get your behind moving. Now," he shoved her unceremoniously towards the door to the corridor. "The trail gets colder with every second."

With pain, but she managed to keep inside all the words that wanted to spill out of her mouth, swung around on her heels and went out of the room, leaving Duncan and Bishop glare at each other in glacial silence.

"Hells, Hells, Hells," Neeshka muttered, running at Adele's heels, and giggled nervously. "Got ourselves into a mess, huh?"

"Am I the only one with feeling that he'll deliberately drag us through all the forest dirt?" Qara added gloomily.

"Why?" Grobnar asked in sincere wonder, which made Adele smile.

She shook her head: "Alright. We've dealt with the gith many times before," she looked down at Khelgar for support, and the dwarf nodded assent, grinning contentedly into his beard, "we've pulled Shandra out of their reach once. Now we'll just do it again," she gritted her teeth. "And no unshaven selfish scamp will hamper us in it."


	12. XII: Slow Down, Ranger

XII: Slow Down, Ranger

_Can__ he go slower? Yes, he can. But will he? Oh no, no way in the Hells!_

Adele winced, but didn't slower her pace, even despite the pain in her hip. She couldn't say for certain, but as far as her feelings went the cut started bleeding.

_Need to make a bandage during the halt. Of course, if there _will be_ any halt…_

Judging by the speed Bishop maintained - and his moods – the ranger didn't plan on any halts. During all the time they moved (actually, ran) north, the ranger never said a single word. He just strode briskly way ahead of the rest of them, side by side with his wolf, looked down on the ground, around, sometimes stopped for a moment or two, catching sight of something, but immediately resumed his pace without explaining what it was that drew his attention. Adele herself noticed several odd marks of the gith's moving – broken bush, droplets of dark blood, grass crumpled in the opposite direction from the wind – but the woman doubted very much that she would have been able to pick up the trail as confidently as Bishop had, especially in her present state.

Neverwinter and its forest were long way behind already. No, the forest continued, but it was… different. The trees became sparse but bigger, the grass was disappearing, replaced by the dry fallen pine needles, entangled in tortile stalks of some northern plants that felt springy underfoot. The woman didn't think it was famous Duskwood, but something told her that even if they hadn't crossed Luskan border yet, they were already pretty close to it.

The rays of midday sun seeped through crowns of trees, but the sun itself hadn't risen long ago enough to warm up the air, humid and cold from the raining at night. Adele heard Neeshka, who was running alongside with her, chatter her teeth quietly. Elanee, moving after the tiefling, looked serene and almost happy, despite the tiredness and chill. Seemed the druidess again enjoyed the mere presence in the wild – no matter the reasons or circumstances. The one to feel himself best appeared Grobnar – he ran forward skippingly, turning his head from side to side, and his tiny feet made no sound touching the ground.

Without slackening his pace or – again – saying anything, Bishop came up to one of the trees, grabbed the lower branch, effortlessly pulled himself up on it and swiftly climbed higher, until he got lost in the foliage. Throwing her head back, Adele saw him above. Holding a firm bough for balance, the ranger peered into the distance, himself almost indiscernible among the leaves in his grey-green cloak.

"…ooh," using the pause, Khelgar recovered his breath heavily and wiped his reddened face dry. The cushy wound on his forehead also hadn't clotted yet, but that apparently didn't bother the dwarf in the slightest. "The lad must 've ox sinew – ta gallop like that."

"We aren't going to rest, are we?" Neeshka asked without hope, bending her head down and setting her palms against her knees.

"We have no choice," Casavir answered. His face was calm and straight as usual, but Adele saw a small vein pulsing on his temple from the tension. "The githyanki had not intended to kill Shandra, but we cannot risk her well-being."

Qara jerked her head upwards, in the direction where Bishop had disappeared: "Somebody ask the monster if we have a long way ahead still?"

"Ask by yourself," the ranger snapped, jumping down to the ground and not deigning a glance at her. "But don't expect any answer."

Grobnar ran up to him: "Sir Bishop, maybe we could afford a little break? Not that I am tired, no, nothing like that – it's more like I am fatigued a bit."

"You can even die, gnome, for all I care."

"Well, but if we all just – as you've expressed yourself harshly – die, then what's the point? I mean, in that case we won't be able to save miss Shandra, will we?"

"But _I_'ll be free and clear," he regarded them with a gloomy stare, that declared their utter hopelessness, and gave his head a single disdainful shake. "Half an hour."

Khelgar breathed out in relief, falling on his back and stretching out his legs with obvious pleasure: "That's somethin' at least."

The others also sat – if not collapsed – on the grass. Casavir took a flask of water out of his bag, passing it around. Qara created a small ball of fire in the air and started warming her hands up in front of it, not paying attention to Tamin, who took his time to whisk busily into the paladin's opened bag. Casavir watched the weasel for some time almost curiously, then carefully pulled him out and placed on his mistress' lap. Adele lowered herself on a large tree-root, partly wrenched out of the ground, and pursed her lips tightly, straightening her injured leg.

"Take this," Elanee handed her a couple of dark-green leaves of some plant. "They would close the bleeding. I picked them on the way, seeing how you walk. They'll have to do until we camp and I'll be able to heel the cut properly."

"Thanks," Adele smiled at her cursorily, taking clean cloth-straps out of her bag. Life in the Mere taught her all too well never to leave home without possible bandages.

Wiping off dirt and blood, she tore apart the leaves the druidess gave her, placed them against the wound and dressed it, trying to make the bandage not too tight – she had enough to worry about without a blocked artery. Sitting erect and brushing away a few loosed tresses of hair from her forehead, she smiled again as she saw Elanee approaching Khelgar – probably with the same proposition of stopping the bleeding. Neeshka flopped down on the ground beside the root Adele was sitting on, and the woman noticed the way the tiefling flinched, rubbing her ankle.

"What's up?" she asked.

Neeshka shrugged: "Leg cramped," she shot a glance at the ranger, who was standing markedly aside from the rest, with his back to them, his stare fixed on the opening between the trees. "Not that _someone_ cares, of course… Shit, he'll get us all killed by evening."

"Uh-huh. The question is – by the journey or by his own hands," taking a deep and doomed sigh, Adele stood up, brushing her palms and breeches from the adhered damp needles and leaves. "No, it's not going to work that way."

Crossing their extempore camp, she closed the distance to Bishop, trying to ignore the wolf sitting at his master's feet and meeting the woman with a suspicious glare and a low growl.

"Yes, yes," Adele nodded at the animal. "You are both very friendly, got that already."

She looked up at the ranger. He didn't move, standing half-turned to her and not showing any signs if he noticed her at all. His tawny face kept a grimly disinterested expression with a faint trace of irritation, his eyes were still fastened on the distance farther ahead, sometimes sliding along the thin path that led forward… and Adele suddenly realized that his silent annoyance was caused not by their company (or rather, not _only_ by their company) but also by something else…

"Anything wrong?" she asked.

He didn't answer, didn't turn, didn't look at her, continuing to ignore her presence. Adele drew in the air through her clenched teeth and crossed her arms on her chest: "I asked a question."

"I heard it," he replied.

"…And? You have some kind of curse on you that makes you die if you answer questions?"

"You aren't paying me, princess – so I'm not _obliged_ to entertain you with chatting."

_Oh gods, so what, now we should strangle ourselves from happiness that we've got such a treasure for free?_

She jerked her head up a bit: "Alright. What_ if_ I pay you?"

He smirked wryly, still not looking at her: "You don't have enough gold to buy my thoughts right now, trust me."

"Twenty?"

"…Alright. Maybe I was wrong," he glanced at her sideways, watching the woman taking a purse out of her bag and counting out the coins, and took them with a dead-pan look. "You won't get much for that amount anyway," he added and grinned floutingly, raising his brows: "So, what is it my lady wants?"

She sighed: "What's the problem, Bishop?"

"You mean, aside from the fact that I'm dragging myself into Luskan territory for some stupid farm wench?"

"…Let's get some things straight, shall we?" she pressed the fingers of her folded arms, squeezing her elbows. "We are enjoying your company no more than you enjoy ours, believe me. But it so happened that we need your help. If I could lead them through the trail – I would have. But I can't. I don't know this area. I'll stroke your ego even more and admit that I'm far from being as good in tracking as you are. Happy?"

"Like a gnome," he answered without the slightest changes to his voice. "So?"

"So," she sighed again patiently, "I'm not asking you to be our best friend or something – but can you at least not wreak your foul mood on my companions?"

"I'm not wreaking anything, princess. _I_ want to go through Luskan and get away as soon as possible. You want to come across their patrols – be my guest, but don't expect me to keep you company."

…_Brilliant, Delly. As a result he is a cold-blooded professional, and you are an offended whining fool._

Bracing herself, she moved her shoulder, trying to take up the same business-like tone: "Had that much encounters with Luskans?"

His eyes narrowed slightly: "Enough for a lifetime, let's say."

"Wonder what is it you do in your lifetime, then?" she hemmed. "Well, of course, apart from nobly escorting people through forests."

The ranger shifted his shoulder in mock evasiveness: "Well now, that's a rather… _intimate_ question…"

"Why is that, all of a sudden?" Adele drawled, when he abruptly turned to her and bent down, leaning his face almost right up to hers:

"Want me to answer… or show, hmm?" he whispered, making her deviate back a little in alarm that the ranger for whatever reason was going to kiss her. But he just arched his eyebrow, a thin crooked smile twitching his lips: "Or you think that a pinch of gold and your pretty muzzle is going to soften me up, make me open my tarnished soul and confide the sorrows of my life? Think again, princess. I'll need much more on both sides of the fence to do that."

Adele grinded her teeth: "Damn, I recall only asking a simple question – what is it you're doing when not escorting people?"

"Shooting them with arrows mostly," he answered, his rusty voice again indifferent and impassive, and stood up strait, fixing his eyes back at the forest as if nothing happened. "Or tracking them down so somebody else can kill them," he cast her another derisive sidelong glance. "Good enough answer for you? That's all twenty golds will buy you."

"Wonderful," Adele pointed icily. "Why is it I always happen to pay double for some shit?"

He clicked his tongue: "Well, prices are high nowadays."

"Who'd know better than a smuggler, huh?" Adele nodded and, noticing another short glance, this time a little wary one, smiled: "Yeah, I know. Duncan said."

Bishop smiled back, though his smile looked more like lupine bared teeth:

"Oh, he did, did he? Guess I'll have to have a little talk with Duncan. Or you tell him the next time he opens his trap, I'm going to close it for him," his gaze returned to the forest, smile gone. "Worthless blabbing drunk…"

"And what's the matter? You ashamed of that? Somehow I doubt that guilty conscience keeps you awake at nights."

"Well, it's not like you are sleeping beside to know that, are you. Or you want to check?"

She winced, stepping back: "Fine, fine. The Hells with you, ranger. Just do your job and follow the trail. Considering it's not that hard this time."

Bishop cocked his head to the shoulder, again quirking up his brow. Adele rolled her eyes: "Oh, I'm sorry, in no way am I questioning your know-how and all that, but some traces – no offence - are too obvious."

"You are not as offensive as you want to be, princess," he shifted his stare back to the forest ahead. "It's just what I was thinking. _Too_ obvious."

Adele felt taken aback by this unexpected change of moods and topic: "Really?"

"Yeah… Our friends moving straight to the north-east, not turning, not twirling, not even trying to cover their tracks…" he squinted, peering into the thick of trees, and shook his head. "I don't like it."

"If they are in a hurry, that's natural."

"_If_," Bishop nodded and once more eyed the woman, with slight surprise, as if for the first time he got the idea that she was not a complete nonentity: "Well now, you _do_ seem to know your way around the wilderness. Wonder how you and Duncan could possibly be related."

"My _father_ is a ranger. So don't think you are the only one around who won't get lost in the woods."

"Really hope so. I've got signed up for only one saving operation," leaving no time for her to answer, he stared back into the forest. "Speaking of which – we should get moving. Maybe we'll close up in a bit by evening."

"…Just a little slower, alright? _Please_?"

"And what am I supposed to do with your 'please' – eat it or sell it?" he snorted, then shrugged uncaringly. "As you like. After all, it's not _my_ friend being tortured by gith right now."

Shaking her head, Adele turned away from him and headed towards others, nodding slightly at Neeshka's questioning glance. Smiling with relief, the tiefling got to her feet, taking a few steps to make sure her leg recovered from the spasm.

"It should be easier from now on," Adele reassured her.

"Did you kick him?" Neeshka asked hopefully.

"Nah, alas," the woman sighed. "Hope you've got some of our money on you? I'm afraid I'll run out of any too soon as the case is."


	13. XIII: The Embers of Memory

**XIII**: The Embers of Memory

They made no more stops during the day, but the way itself became easier. Partly because Bishop had indeed reduced the speed. Not very much, though – enough to make this generous gesture apparent, no more than that. It also helped that they finally left the forest and went into the hills, where the natural growth was not that dense, just sun-heated sand rustled quietly underfoot.

Some part of Adele's brain registered that she was hungry – but the woman understood all too well that it didn't matter as much as it should. She soothed herself with the thoughts that the gith needed Shandra alive… but the next thought to come to her mind was _why_ they needed her alive. The creatures surely left no impression of guys who would nicely question somebody in hopes to get required information in an amicable way.

They passed through a small cavity between the tops of two hills that seemed grown together. The barely noticeable path ran down, to the valley, where in the dim sunset light bathed a tiny village. A single street, a handful of houses, a well in the centre – the settlement wasn't much of a change from West Harbor, only looked more peaceful.

_Maybe some of the villagers s__aw the gith… Gods, only to know that she's still alive._

"Hold on," Bishop cut off suddenly, and the others came to a standstill. The ranger's gaze was fixed on the village. "Something isn't right."

Adele also looked down, at the settlement. Because of their company standing in the deep shadow from the hill, the village's sandy street seemed almost shining, washed by the bronze light, and solidified, like stream of pure gold; only a light wind rolled pieces of dried grass along it in silence.

"But where are all the villagers?" Elanee suddenly wondered, her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Maybe there's some festival in the neighbor village?" Khelgar suggested, but there was apparent doubt in his tone.

"To the Hells with the villagers," Bishop shook his head slightly. "No livestock. They didn't take it all to market, right?" tensely and somehow not very reassuringly he drew in the air through clenched teeth. "And we are still on the trail of our scaly friends… So this is where they wanted us to come, huh."

Adele made a step back: "Let's back off a little, wait for some time."

Qara shot her an indignant glance: "What? We've come all this way – and _now_ we're going just sit around and wait?"

Bishop chuckled hoarsely: "Now, now, little empress. You just listen to your friend here - might just save your life."

The ranger bent down to his wolf, giving him a light pat on the nape, and the animal, following some unspoken command known only to the two of them, waged his tail a bit and in an unhurried pace started down the hill, towards the village, sniffing. Adele was watching the wolf for some time, when out of the corner of her eye saw Neeshka silently slip on the top of the hill, probably looking for a better view on the settlement. Bishop cursed under his breath and, grasping at her tail, jerked her back down under the shadow-cover.

"Hey!" the tiefling squeaked, but he immediately clapped her mouth with his palm.

"Shut up," he hissed, digging his glare into her eyes. "If you alert them - I swear, I'll use _you_ as a shield. Got it?"

Neeshka blinked several times above his hand in acknowledgement.

"Good," the ranger answered in the same unnervingly quiet tone.

Casavir's hand closed firmly on his upper-arm: "Leave her, Bishop."

Bishop moved his narrowed eyes to his grip, then slowly lifted them to Casavir's face: "Why don't you hold _yourself_ in hands, paladin?" The paladin didn't move, yet his grip didn't relax.

"Wow, a fight?" Neeshka muttered, casting her gaze between the two men. "'Cause of me? Come on, I'm not _that_ offended."

Qara grinned gloatingly, probably hoping that the paladin will thrash the ranger.

"Alright, let's all cool down," Adele wedged herself between them. "We don't have time right now for scuffles."

Bishop threw her an icy glare: "_I_ don't have time to die here today because of your crew's stupidity," he sneered. "Though I can't say I'm not glad with _your_ desire to die. You do that – I'm out of debt."

Adele let out a condensed sigh. "Yes, Bishop, you _are_ a very evil bastard, I remember, no need to remind."

Neeshka tried, but failed to stifle a snicker, earning another murderous glance from the ranger.

"And what is going on?" Grobnar asked innocently, looking up at all of them in turn.

"Seems like an ambush," Adele answered, again watching the village below.

"An' no traces of battle," Khelgar grunted perplexedly. "Then where's all the folk gone to?"

"Nowhere," Bishop filtered through set teeth.

Adele suddenly noticed a glimpse of movement in the shadow cast by one of the sheds and strained her eyes, trying to figure anything in that sharp contrast mess of light and dark areas.

"There's someone there," she whispered. "To the right from the well… A boy, it seems… Wh…? Oh, he shakes his head. To us."

"Good eyes," the ranger nodded almost approvingly, also looking in the pointed direction, and grinned again. There was nothing merry in that grin. "Thanks, milksop, we've figured already that you've got us ambushed."

"So what 're we waitin' for?" Khelgar wondered. "We're _here_ an' the enemies 're _there_. Let's go!"

"Yeah, you go ahead, dwarf. And we'll just stay here and see what happens," he looked at his wolf, who had already passed along the outskirt houses, came to a halt and was now staring back at his master. Bishop nodded grimly.

"They're inside the houses?" Adele clarified, getting another thoughtful nod as an answer. "You know this place?"

"It's Ember, already Luskan grounds. Have been here in passing a couple of times."

Casavir pointed at the patch of ground where the well was: "To my opinion, that is the only place with enough space for maneuvers."

"Well, your opinion matches mine," Adele agreed. "But we don't know how many of them are here. If too much – they can just encircle us," she sighed. "Alright, I have a simple plan – someone needs to go and lure them out."

"Volunteer," Khelgar said at once.

The woman smiled at him: "I'll keep you company, don't worry."

"Ah, live bait," Bishop drawled. "Nice."

Casavir stared at Adele, his eyes a bit widened: "That is too dangerous for you."

"What, Khelgar can, but I can't?" she grinned.

The dwarf laughed, placing his axe on his shoulder: "That's ar lassie."

"Besides, to be honest, I am kind of expecting you to come with us," Adele mentioned, looking at Casavir. "Since the three of us are for a close combat, while guys here can attack from the distance those gith, that'll fall for the bait," noticing his look becoming confused by the fact he hadn't thought of her plan that way, she smiled again. "Yeah, I'm smarter than I seem."

The paladin couldn't help but smile in return, nodding in agreement to follow her and Khelgar, and the woman shifted her gaze to the others: "So, how are you about covering?"

Elanee, looking pensively underfoot, nodded, leaned down, scooping a handful of sand, letting it spill through her fingers, and closed her eyes. Qara was already whispering something to her weasel, who was sitting on her shoulder, stroked his fur and, meeting Adele's questioning glance, tossed her chin up a bit in a common haughty gesture: "Fry them up to firebrands, you'll see."

Neeshka winked encouragingly at Adele and immediately slipped behind the hill, looking for a place to hide. Grobnar followed in another direction, absently murmuring some song under his breath.

Adele licked her lips: "Ready?"

"Always," Khelgar grinned and started stamping towards the village, Casavir at his heels, passing by Bishop, who just leaned his shoulder against the nearest large boulder, merging into its shadow, and almost lazily drew a longbow from behind his back, running his thumb along the string.

Taking in full lungs of air, Adele followed the dwarf and the paladin, stepping forward the path down the hill, but, as she also passed the ranger by, she caught a sight of an already familiar expression on his face – like he was going to smile, but changed his mind – and arched her brow at him in silent question. He nodded:

"Well now, who could have thought there _are_ brains in that pretty scull," he smirked. "Why don't you use them regularly, princess?"

Adele regarded him with a long blank stare, then shook her head helplessly and continued to walk down the path, mentally making a note to get used to the ranger's annoying "insulting compliments" habit.

_Damn, if you are impressed – why don't just say so? …__I mean, like I need to impress you or something, anyway… _

…On the border of the village she noticed the wolf, who didn't stop or even looked at the three of them, pacing along the houses in the same placid and indifferent manner, ideally playing the role of such an innocent peaceful animal, minding his own business. Following his example, Adele, too, didn't slower her step, gradually – but not quickly - catching up with Casavir and Khelgar, at the same time keeping her hands away from her weapon, slightly swinging them back and forth in steady rhythm of her footsteps and sometimes looking around with a careless curiosity, until her eyes finally found the boy she noticed earlier. Ragged dark-haired lad, probably not older than seven, he was still sitting in the shade of the hood of one of the barns, between the barrels, staring back at the woman.

"Go away," she mutely articulated with her lips.

He didn't move from the spot and kept staring right at her. Shivering a bit from his gaze for some reason, Adele figured that if the gith hadn't harmed the villagers before they would hardly bother to do something like that now.

But still, it was strange for a child not to be afraid at all.

"An' where's everybody?!" Khelgar exclaimed in a loud cheerful voice, probably enjoying this whole trap thing and gladly playing along.

"Don't know," Adele answered, managing to tear her gaze away from the well, looming ahead in the pre-dusk haze. Suddenly the way towards it seemed like several miles long. Her eyes slid along the houses, silent, empty-like, not stopping but locking on Casavir, and the woman had to squint from the way sunrays reflected from his armor. "Maybe it's some kind of a rest-day today?" she turned on her heels, lowering her voice almost to a whisper: "They appear, we scatter. Several dispersed aims are harder to hit." With that she placed her palms trumpet –like to her mouth and raised her voice again: "Hello?! Anyone here?!"

"_Kalach-Cha_!!!"

"Wouldn't ya know!" Khelgar grinned.

The githyanki poured out of the houses, and before Adele could even think about it her hand had already pulled the rapier out of the sheath. Elanee's tuneful voice flew over the street, and the same moment fluttering walls of sand rose from the ground, cutting Adele, Casavir and Khelgar off from the gith, but leaving them small corridors to get away from the place where enemies expected to find them. Exchanging short glances, they did just that, everyone darting forth in their own direction as they had agreed. Through the rustle of sand Adele heard gith's raspy shouts, probably discovering that the things turned out differently than they had anticipated.

The fire blazed, and the woman suddenly caught a glimpse of Tamin, scampering by a tortuous trajectory, sparks of Qara's spell cascading off his body, leaving hurdles of fire behind the weasel, through which the gith had to break, fuming and smoldering, just to fall on the ground struck by throwing daggers, bolts or arrows.

Khelgar rushed past Adele with a joyful war-cry, swinging his axe and hewing down the gith he came across, not even stopping to check if he had actually killed them or finish off the survivors. It seemed that Neeshka took that upon herself, her silhouette flashing at the side, as deft and agile as always, like that of a kitten playing with several clews at once. Her tail swished from side to side anxiously and even whipped across Khelgar's face.

"I swear, I'll chop off that blasted tail of yers, fiendlin'!" he barked, without a break sending the giths around him flying.

"Only after your beard, moss-breath!" the tiefling laughed, diving into the sand.

Adele easily slit the throat of the nearest gith open, feeling a broad grin breaking on her lips.

_Honestly, who can be afraid on anything with such friends around?_

Under the whizzes of enemy's arrows she dashed to the well, making short work of turning up githyanki and at the same time searching with her eyes for the shapes of her other companions, also rushing to the meeting point. Adele even caught sight of Bishop, who was apparently made to leave his shooting-spot and was now making his way to the well, with breathtaking speed firing his arrows at random to where the gith's bolts came from. Judging by acute yells, most of his arrows hit the mark.

Reaching the well, he leaped on its roof in one swift spring, while the others gathered round, with their backs to the high brickwork. The sand was abating, and immediately Qara, probably waiting for it, confidently drew a line on the earth with her staff, crying out some words, and not far from her a flare emerged from the ground, arching to the side and surrounding the well with firewall. The remaining gith lingered perceptibly, but only for a second, darting to them even through the flames, to be met with steel, while Bishop methodically and neatly got rid of the archers hiding behind the windows.

Adele moved a bit forward from the well, deeply gashing the chest of another gith, but that didn't make him back off – instead he fell right onto the woman, making her jump away clumsily. The bandage on her hip burst, blood sprinkled from the wound, and Adele clenched her jaws, suppressing a cry, turning it to a faint groan that seeped through her teeth. Hearing that groan or just figuring everything out by the look on her face, Casavir caught her by the waist with his free arm, keeping her from falling, lifted the woman and easily moved her backwards, shielding with himself, parrying the attack of another creature and at once running his sword through his body…

… "Those seem to be all of them," Elanee muttered, looking around through the fire coming to naught.

Adele shut her eyes tightly, leaning against the well.

"You feel bad, miss Adele?" she heard Grobnar's voice.

The woman looked at him and chuckled, noticing an arrow that got entangled in the gnome's tousled hair.

"I'll be fine," she said, reaching for his head, fishing the arrow out of his fair locks, and handed it to the gnome. "Here's a trophy for you."

"Oh, my," Grobnar stared at the arrow in huge surprised eyes, then threw his head back to look in the sky and after that gazed back at Adele. "Where did you get it from?"

She didn't answer, still smiling, and fastened her bandage. Over her head Bishop squatted down on the roof, viewing the gith's corpses from above.

"Nice little ambush they planned here," he concluded. "Decent effort, sloppy execution," he shot a glance at Neeshka. "To think, it might have even worked if I hadn't been here."

"They wouldn't have noticed me," the tiefling retorted in a miffed tone, gathering her knives.

The ranger jumped down to the ground and strolled along the dead, pulling out his arrows. His wolf was sitting aside, sometimes shaking himself and licking clean his fur that was singed here and there. Khelgar was turning over the bodies, probably in hopes to find somebody still alive. Casavir didn't move, standing beside Adele and looking around to make sure none of the githyanki was in hiding. Adele herself was gazing around, noticing a couple of pale frightened faces in the windows. Figuring the gith were not harming them, the villagers probably decided it would be safer to hide themselves in cellars or some such.

"They left a large force in this village," Bishop said, scanning the corpses one last time. "Which means it'll be easier on us when we catch up to the others. Well, as long as we catch them before they go to ground."

Adele shrugged: "Yes, but if they are fewer now – they'll travel faster."

"Eh?" he looked up at her in slight surprise, as if he had already forgotten that someone besides him had a voice, and grinned snidely. "Well now, aren't you a bright ray of hope!"

"She was just pointing out the realities of the situation, Bishop," Casavir explained.

Like a shot, the ranger's gaze shifted to him: "Rein in, paladin. She can answer herself, without you speaking for her."

Casavir frowned, apparently taken aback that his words could be interpreted that way, and shook his head: "It was not my intention to speak for _her_-"

"Yeah?" Bishop cut him off with a wry smirk. "Then _don't_. And maybe next time you'll sound convincing," not giving him time to answer, he looked back pointedly at Adele: "What I was _going_ to say is that you are right. And what's more, our friends won't be leaving an obvious trail this time, since they don't have the men to bait any more ambushes."

"And thank the Gods," Neeshka said, looking over the corpses, and flinched. "Don't want anything like that again."

"…says you!" Khelgar replied. "Bring them on – says I!"

"Yeah, that was fun!" Qara agreed, though her face was pale apart from the morbid crimson flush on her cheeks. Excelled Tamin was already sitting in his safe burrow under her collar, his tiny dark eyes glittering. "Like target practice! Except – _real_ targets! Hope they'll send some more after us."

"Well, I hope they won't," Elanee shook her head.

"Nah, c'me on!" the dwarf waved her off. "If that's the best they can do, we'll be fine."

"Anyway, let's get moving already," Bishop rounded.

Elanee again looked around: "Maybe we should check on the villagers."

The ranger regarded her with a scowl. "Why?" he demanded coldly.

"Someone may be hurt."

Adele chuckled humourlessly: "I'm afraid after such an enchanting carnage they are scared of us no less than they were of the gith."

"Well then, let them stay in their corners and rot," Bishop snapped. "They had it coming anyway, laying so softly for the gith."

"The githyanki were here because of us, not them," Casavir remarked.

The ranger stared at him almost unbelievingly: "Tell me you are joking, paladin. They _came_ here because of us, but they _were_ here because of them," he spat on the sand. "To give up themselves and their homes to the enemy… I'm surprised the giths let any of them alive at all after that. It's more mercy than I'd've shown them."

"The githyanki are not common soldiers. And the villagers are not veterans of battle, like we are. Their behavior can be forgiven."

"Well, _you_ can forgive everything you want, paladin," Bishop mocked, his voice acidly caustic. "Cowardice, spinelessness, stupidity… And forgive _me_ that I don't want to."

"Okay, that's enough," Adele chimed in, seeing that the paladin was ready to answer something, and got to her feet, swaying a little as she stepped on her damaged leg.

At that Casavir gave a slight start, as if awakened from a dream, and caught the woman by the elbow, helping her to maintain balance. The ranger grinned, looking at them, and shrugged:

"Agreed, need to keep moving," he nodded at the northen path that led out of the village. "The trail goes for the mountains, so we have a lot of ground ahead to cover, and-"

"Uhm… forgive me," came a quavery female voice.

They all turned at once, and a young girl, huddling near one of the houses, obviously got confused and scared of such attention. Nervously picking at a strand of long blond hair, tied into a tail, she finally dared to come closer – though her face showed that she was ready to bolt away every moment.

"Forgive me," she repeated, darting her eyes around their motley company. "Are you… um..." her gaze slid towards the dead gith, and she swallowed hard.

"They pose no threat anymore," Casavir said in his deep round voice that seemed to envelope with calmness. "And neither do we."

The girl nodded, though she still seemed to be stressed. "Are you hunting them?"

"Yes, we are," Adele answered, coming up to her. "Have you seen them? Those that went further?"

"Yes, they... " she gulped, her gaze becoming almost pleading as she looked at Adele. "Please... They were carrying off a woman with them..."

"Shandra?"

"You know Shandra?" her eyes lit up with hope. "I heard her screaming… I… I tried to call out to her, but... I didn't realize they had her at first, but, you see, she makes a merchant run through Ember and Port Llast during harvest season, and..." her voice broke, and she gulped again. "I'm… I'm sorry, where are my manners? I am Alaine, and…" she shook her head, looking at all of them, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Please, save her… I saw the beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east…"

"You don't say," Bishop drawled, his tone equally bored and annoyed.

Alaine stared at him mutely for a second, blinking in confusion, then looked back at Adele: "You will rescue her, won't you? And thank you for saving us from those creatures! I can't th-"

"Like we did that for _you_," the ranger murmured icily, eyeing the girl with disgust. The girl took a step back, fear starting to creep back into her eyes,

_Yes, Bishop, wonderful, let's drive the only person trying to help us to hysterics, shall we?_

"It's alright," Adele gave her head a calm shake, coming closer to Alaine to distract her dismayed cornered gaze from the ranger. "We shall do what we can."

"Will you…?" she smiled hopefully.

"You have our word, Alaine," Casavir added soothingly. "We shall return Shandra safely."

"We _can't_ promise anything like that," Bishop put in. "She could be dead already," he shot another disdainful glance at Alaine and flinched. "Now why don't you stop wasting our time and run back home to the rest of your hiccup-scared kinfolk, huh?"

Alaine swallowed and nodded in fright, moving back to her house. Adele gnashed her teeth, not looking at the ranger, but managed to force a smile for the girl: "Forgive him, Alaine. To track down beasts a person has to be one."

Bishop let out a short chuckle: "Now _that's_ the truth. Ah, I'm definitely starting to like this journey," casting one last glance at Alaine, he jerked his head towards the dead gith. "And the next time you'd better try doing something by yourselves. Might not get lucky with such merciful enemies – and end up butchered like lambs on the slaughter."

"Not everyone would just pass by, like you, ranger," Casavir cut off.

"And you won't be in time everywhere, paladin."

"Ooo," Qara rolled her eyes and nodded at Khelgar and Neeshka. "Here I thought those two were unbearable. But just the moment they seemed to stop their bickering – here we are again."

"Indeed," Neeshka muttered, a bit amazed, and nudged Khelgar with her elbow. "Hey, why haven't we bickered for a long time?"

"Oh, go to Hells," the dwarf grunted.

The ranger, paying no attention to them, stared at Adele and raised his brows in mock wonder: "So, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? The trail gets colder."

She didn't answer, turning away and stalking past him up the street that led out of Ember. Under the pressure of anger that flowed inside of her even the pain in her leg seemed to fade away. She was angry at the githyanki, at her own wound, at the godsdamned smuggler…

…and at the fact that when he was saying all those things she couldn't help but think about West Harbor and her neighbours, getting ready in minutes to repulse the gith's attack…

…think about Amie, rushing at the gith's mage to protect her mentor…

…think about Highcliff and Elder Mayne, who didn't even _try_ to solve the problem with the lizardfolk somehow…

…and for all the blunt cruelty that was in Bishop's words, some part of her soul actually agreed…

Deep in her grim thoughts Adele didn't even notice a person stepping out of shadows to approach her and almost crashed into him, instinctively receded a bit and lowered her gaze.

The boy. The same pale skinny boy she had seen earlier, the only one who tried to warn them of the ambush – in the bustle of everything that happened she had almost forgot about him. The child didn't move, again staring right at her with his strange shrouded eyes, huge and black, so black that it was impossible to make out the border between the pupil and the iris.

"You…" he suddenly drawled, keeping his gaze - floating yet uncannily piercing at the same time – at the woman. "You're the one who will destroy Ember."

"…What?" Adele chuckled nervously. "What're you talking about, kid?"

He tilted his head to the shoulder, studying Adele from another angle, and pursed his lips: "Wait… no... I was mistaken. Strange… The killer looks like you, but isn't."

The woman perplexedly looked back at the others in stupid hope that someone would explain her what's going on. Elanee, standing at her side, was looking at the boy with hooded, almost sleepy eyes, then whispered: "This child… he is… unusual. I can feel that he is in touch… not with the land, but something even greater…"

"Yeah," Qara ran her fingers through her hair thoughtfully. "I can barely see him – his aura is blazing so much…"

"Ember cannot be saved," he continued in an absent and frighteningly even voice, still looking only at Adele and ignoring others. "All within the village when the time comes will perish… except me".

"What do you mean?" Adele asked, her own voice unwillingly dropping to the same low level matching the child's tone.

"Ember's fate is set in stone, but mine is not. However, I shall share Ember's fate unless you help me."

"How?"

"I think you're carrying something that will allow me to survive. You cannot help me in any other way…"

Bishop, standing aside, smirked: "What, this is how they beg for money nowadays?"

Adele paid no attention to him, her eyes glued to the boy, and placed her bag on the ground to his dirty bare feet:

"Alright. Have a look and see if you can use anything."

"Thank you," he answered in the same calm tone, ran his eyes over her pack, then over the woman herself and those of her companions standing closer, then shook his head. "No, you have nothing…" his eyes flickered towards Bishop. "What about him?"

"What _about_ me?" the ranger asked suspiciously.

"Bishop, let him have a look," she said, running her gaze between the two of them. "Please."

"…Fine," with apparent irritation he threw his pack down from his shoulder into the sand. The wolf sitting nearby watched in alert as the boy came up to it. "Have a look. But try to take anything - and I'll take both your hands as trophies. Got it?"

The child examined his bag with only a fleeting gaze, then lifted his eyes at Bishop himself.

"Your knife..." he suddenly said, pointing at the dagger Bishop kept on the quiver belt across his chest. "It's… different."

"My skinning knife? I've had this thing forever, there's nothing special about it."

"There is… A memory… Can I have it?"

"No. Only between your eyes."

"Bishop," Adele called out, for some reason feeling on edge from the way Elanee and Qara were looking at the child. Her voice seemed frightened even to herself. "Give him the knife."

The ranger looked at her coldly, amber eyes narrowed: "You surely are quick to give me orders, princess. Careful with that."

"I'm _asking_ you to. I'll pay you for it."

"Is that so? Fine..." he pulled the knife out of the scabbard and extended it to the boy – but not low enough for the child to reach it. The ranger's eyes were fixed on Adele. "But don't expect me to forget." With that he lowered his hand finally.

"Thank you," the boy took the dagger and looked back at Adele. "We shall meet again… and soon, I think."

Saying that he made his way between the houses back to the village, his hand clutching at the knife tightly. Adele followed him with her eyes, feeling somewhat relieved as he left, then stared at her companions. They all looked at her with the same bewilderment she herself felt.

All except for Bishop, who was already walking away with his back to Ember…

* * *

When it got completely dark they finally set camp. After a day-long journey, preceded by an almost sleepless night, and a clash in Ember everybody was exhausted. Even in case of catching up with the githyanki in their present state they could hardly do anything to them.

Seemed that Bishop realized that as well since he graciously let them to make a stop for five hours. Or, perhaps, even he got tired finally.

Adele was silently strolling between her companions wrapped up in blankets and bedrolls, taking time for the anxiety caused by the battle and everything else that had happened during the day settle down in her blood – in that condition she wouldn't have been able to fall asleep anyway, and she knew about it. After the fresh dressing and Elanee's healing her wound in the hip had finally given up hurting. The annoying dull ache in her ribs had also faded, although sometimes Adele felt its stings echo through her left lung, but not hard enough to make her cough, which was good. In passing tucking Qara's blanket tighter around the girl, who's face was already regaining it's normal colour, Adele looked around.

Apart from herself, Bishop and Elanee everybody was sleeping already. Khelgar, as usual, fell asleep the moment he touched the bedroll, which almost drove Neeshka to quiet hysterics, and she even fell asleep that way, giggling under her breath. With difficulty, yet Adele managed to put even Casavir to sleep, though the paladin was obviously more than uncomfortable with the thought of leaving the ranger on watch. Not that Adele herself was thrilled with that perspective, but it was obvious that from their whole band Bishop was the one to be less tired. And somehow she doubted that he would go through the trouble of killing them all in their sleep – the ranger didn't give that much damn about them at all to bother. Even Grobnar fell asleep, sometimes murmuring something in his sleep, curling up at Elanee's side, with the druidess sitting near the tree and leaning against it. Her face was weary, eyes half-closed, but Adele couldn't make out if she was awake or not. With elves it was hard to tell sometimes – that she knew all to well after life with Daeghun.

Bishop was sitting on the edge of their camp, on a rolled out bedroll, wrapping himself in his cloak. Having took out of his bag a piece of dried meat, and out of top of his boot – another knife, he was cutting off small slices and threw them into his mouth, chewing them down slowly, almost wistfully. The wolf was stretched on the ground near him, following every slice with a half-slumbering gaze – not very interested one, though. Judging by the fact that the animal used to disappear for some time during their way, Adele came to a conclusion that he had found something in the hills for a snack.

The place they chose for a camp was secluded enough, hid out of view between the hills – yet Adele saw that every time any sound came from the darkness of night, the ranger's gaze immediately turned in that direction and the hand with the knife froze for a heartbeat.

"We could have stopped at Ember," she remarked as she was passing past him.

Bishop winced, not looking at her: "What for? So that those worthless fools could lay a festive table for us in the middle of the village? Thanks a lot, I don't have _that_ much self-control."

"I understand that you were not very impressed with them, but-"

"I wasn't," he admitted calmly and looked up at the standing woman. "I'd like to think that neither were you."

"…?"

"You are from West Harbor," he nodded, forestalling the question. "Duncan said. Said what happened there, why you left. The gith showed up – and you killed them. Right?"

"…Yeah."

He clicked his tongue, as if proving an elementary truth: "See. And there'd be a lot less misery in this fucking world if everyone followed that simple rule: either stand up and fight, or choose to suffer… but don't whine in that case."

Adele smirked mirthlessly and sat down on the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees: "Now that's a gloomy outlook for life."

"Is it? Defending people all the time you end up hurting them worse than if you let them take a few wounds. There's learning in fighting and killing."

"Well, not everybody is into killing…"

"…says the girl who had just finished off several dozens of poor gith," he grinned and shook his head, again looking into the night. "I'm not saying everybody should be Luskans, princess."

"I just meant that some people can stand for themselves – and some people just can't. Simple as that."

"Well, the Hells with them then," he took another slice of meet and chewed it up, shrugging indifferently. "Survival of the fittest it is called. And if you protect the weak all the time the result is one – they remain _weak_. Not giving them any opportunity to stand for themselves you line them up for another butcher to come and finish the job. What would have happened with your little swamp village if you hadn't opposed the gith? You know what. Know as well as I do. At least I admit it."

With a sigh Adele placed her elbows on her knees, propping her head with her hand and looking into space: "I do know. But still, Ember is not West Harbor. At our place people get used to danger since childhood."

"Well, maybe that's the way it should be, princess. Your rough childhood made you tough enough to face what was coming. Could you have come all this way without killing anybody? Somehow I doubt it."

Adele didn't come up with any answer, involuntarily looking at his profile, numerous scars covering his tanned face. Those scars, shadow of stubble on his cheeks, chin and neck, thoroughly accented unwelcoming expression, constant watchfulness of his gaze – all that added years to his age, and only now Adele realized that he was actually very young, not that much older than herself.

_Damn, what have happened to him to make him so cynic… Wonder where he comes from? Surely doesn't have a distinct __clear accent of someone who grew up in a large city…_

Bishop put the rest of the meat back into his pack and took a couple of large sips from his water-flask – though, judging by the smell, it was filled not with water, but with watered ale. The woman's gaze slid down the strap across his chest, where he used to keep his knife… That made her remember the strange black-eyed boy, and Adele shivered slightly, as if feeling his penetrating stare on her again.

"Listen," she said, "that knife you gave to the boy-"

"Actually, _you_ gave it to him, not me," Bishop answered, and Adele arched her brow at the sharp edge that appeared in his voice, then shook her head:

"…Alright, how much does it cost?"

He shrugged: "Couple of coppers, I guess."

She felt startled: "…You mean… there was really nothing… special about it?"

"No - like I said from the start. Just an old skinning knife. But beggars will take anything they can get their hands on, I guess."

Adele shook her head in doubt, again looking into space: "Nah, he wanted that specific knife…"

"…Well," the ranger scratched his stubbled chin thoughtfully, "if the sop wanted to carry it to defend himself – it _is_ easily concealable. Or if he is expecting an attack of a pelt-golem – guess, he can skin it afterwards."

"And it's not magical, not charmed?"

"Don't think so. I mean, maybe – but it's not likely. I had this thing forever and never noticed anything like that. It's just… _mine_," Bishop shot her a grim look. "And don't worry – you'll pay me for it."

"I said I will," she grunted, reaching for her purse. "How much do you want?"

That "almost smiling" expression flashed across his face again: "Did I say anything about _money_?"

She blinked, puzzled, looking at him, then felt her eyes widen a bit in understanding: "…Beg your pardon?"

"Well, seeing how eager you are to console me in my loss…" he fell silent, letting the end of his statement sink, then smirked, sliding his eyes down her.

Adele backed off a little: "You seem to be very tired, ranger - starting to have some strange ideas."

He chuckled: "Now, now, don't be so harsh on yourself as to think that a man can't have any ideas about you. Pretty elven half-breed in skin-tight leather jerkin…" he shrugged. "It'll do just fine."

"Not for you," she stated, rising to her feet, and smiled, "and not for me, I'm afraid."

He followed her up with the same derisive stare: "Well, if you change your mind – I'll be right here. Catch me in the right mood – why not. That's up to you."

Adele gave him another thin smile, looking down on him: "And here I thought there was something worthy about you," she threw her hands up in mock disappointment. "But, hey, no, look – it's good-old Bishop again."

"I am what I am," he nodded. "Glad you've got that."

"Well, try not to _over_glad yourself – or you might miss the trail in your joy."

He laughed: "You know, you warm my heart, really. I love a sharp tongue in a woman."

"I just hope your crush on me won't spoil your watch," she cut off, turning away.

"Then your debt stands," he sent on after her back and chuckled again. "Guess, right until you get drunk again."

Adele froze for a second, feeling a blush creeping up her neck, but didn't look back and walked away, towards the place where she had left her belongings.

_Yeah, you get drunk once, leer at the guy a bit – and you'll never see an end to it,_ she chided inwardly, rolling out her sleeping-bag.

Worming inside of it, she wrapped herself tight from the cold emanating from the ground, and sighed, closing her eyes. Her ear caught another sharp snore from Khelgar, and the woman smiled inwardly, falling into a tired but pleasant sleep.

It was almost deprived of any dreams, instead filled with quiet whisper of the forest, rustle of the grass, a bit tart but nice smell of smoke, pine pitch and leather, and something cool and calloused slid down her neck, stroking gently, causing a wish to purr, a light wave of air tickled her ear…

She gave a slight start, waking up with displeasure, mechanically freeing her hand from under the blanked to brush off a leaf or whatever it was on her neck, half-opened her eyes… and became paralyzed as they met with another pair of eyes, amber, cold, amused…

_????????????__ What the -????????????_

Bishop leaned in closer, and with horror Adele realized it was actually his fingers on her neck. She backed away – but there was only ground underneath her, though she almost felt like trying to dig herself into it with her shoulder-blades.

_He… __Crap, what is he…? He's…?!!_

"Rise and shine, princess," he whispered almost soundlessly, his thin sneer becoming wider and sharper at her reaction. "It's about time."

Coming to her senses, she swiftly waved her free hand to smack him against the face with the back of her palm – but it missed, flew hair-breadth from his cheek as he had already got up, making a few steps away, and she sat bolt upright, glaring in the distance with silent rage. Swallowing, she threw her blanket off, rising to her feet and ignoring his deliberately intent supervision.

"What, have five hours passed already?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep and anger.

"Yeah," he answered, and by the sound of his voice Adele could swear that son of a bitch was grinning. "So let's get moving."

"As you say, oh ranger."

She went to wake up the rest of her friends, paying no further attention to Bishop. He was just standing there, a motionless silent figure between the trees, his arms folded, mockery written in every line of his pose – and Adele discovered that, perhaps, for the first time in her life she was actually starting to _hate_ someone...


	14. XIV: Through Demons and Gith 1

**XIV**: Through Demons and Gith (part one)

At the latter half of the day the foggy grey haze at the horizon finally took a shape of mountains outlines.

"Looks like we have quite a climb ahead of us," Bishop remarked as the shades of first ledges covered them. "What, do you really need that farmgirl so much?"

"Don't see how _that_'s any business of yours, ranger," Adele answered.

"Just worried that this whole journey doesn't really pay off."

"Shandra's well-being should be our focus right now," Casavir cut off.

Bishop snorted: "I'll let that be _your_ focus, paladin. I just want to hope that the wench is worth the trouble," he cast a sidelong glance at Neeshka. "Seems to me the tiefling is thinking the same thing."

"I'm not!" she immediately rejoined.

"Sure you are not. That's why your face keeps that expression. 'Stupid peasant girl who keeps putting us all in danger'."

"No! I… I just kinda worry what we'll get into, at gith's place, that's all!"

"She can't think somethin' like that," Khelgar chuckled. "We've saved her life too."

"Once! Not like… what? …three times now!!!" she tarried, even got out of step for a second, then shook her head, glaring daggers at Bishop, who was still watching her out of the corner of his eye with the same smirk on his face. "And I didn't mean anything like _that_! Just worry and that's all!"

"I'm not saying anything, tiefling," he cooed.

"Doesn't look as if," Qara grunted.

"And Shandra is not just some… 'stupid peasant girl', Bishop," Elanee added. "She needs our help."

"Ladies, ladies," the ranger shook his head. "Don't jump on me all at one time, have patience. I know it's hard to, but-"

"Mind your tongue, Bishop," Casavir's voice was ice.

"When you all are doing that for me? Why would I bother."

_Gods, the guy surely enjoys creating chaos around him,_ Adele thought grimly. _Now I know why he chose this name for himself – 'cause it's perfect for being spat angrily between clenched teeth._

Walking almost side by side with him, without turning her head, she hissed: "One more word, Bishop, and I'm cutting your tongue off."

He smirked again: "Well, you surely have a strained atmosphere for such a small band."

"Not without your help."

"Always ready to help."

"Then why don't you look where you should – on the trail?"

"Ah, but of course," he gave her a mock bow, without slackening his pace and keeping the same smirk on his face. "Wretched sleuth is at your service, my lady."

Adele shot him a cold glance and smiled tightly, lowering her voice so that only he could hear her: "Looks like someone needs to learn to take woman's rejection with more dignity."

Bishop quirked up his brow in slight amusement: "…Or someone needs to learn to flatter herself less, huh?" he suddenly took the next step not forward, but a bit aside, closing up the distance between then, and whispered in her ear: "No need to at all, princess."

With that he quickened his pace, leaving her behind with the shivers that slid from the back of her neck down the spine. Closing her eyes, Adele gave herself a shake and cursed inwardly. She would have preferred not to open her eyes at all in her lifetime, but was forced to as she almost crashed into ranger's back when he suddenly came to a halt. His face kept no trace of smile.

The others stopped as well, looking at him questioningly, after Ember being understandably attentive to his suspicions concerning the area around, and the ranger silently pointed upwards, at one of the ledges in the distance, where in the pearl-grey mist clouded between the rocks several dark skinny figures could be made out…

"Archers. Guarding the main path," he said quietly, without turning to them. "Means the lair is somewhere nearby already… Luckily the sun is shining into their eyes, don't see us."

"I'd have taken them down," Neeshka muttered, "if they were fewer… Well, this way… they might get time to figure out, I'm afraid."

"Besides, there may be more of them around," Elanee added.

"There are," Bishop answered, gesturing aside. "Six more behind the boulder."

Adele looked narrowly in that direction. Indeed. The gith were not seen, yet by the way the shadow cast by the boulder fell on the ground – not really matching the outlines of the boulder itself – it could be inferred that there was someone behind it.

_Whatever you say, h__e _is_ good after all,_ she thought, glancing shortly at Bishop. _Damnably good…_

"So I suggest live bait again," the ranger concluded, watching the archers. "We send the gnome forward, and while they are busy taking him down – we take down them."

…_but why in the Hells does he need to be__ an asshole for all that?_

"Don't even think," she cut him off, seeing that Grobnar predictably became thrilled with the idea.

"Why?" Bishop grinned. "Let him be useful too."

"I am ready," Grobnar beamed at them.

"No, Grobnar," Adele shook her head. "Too risky…"

"Well, yes, maybe, miss Adele, but why don't you look yourself!" he pointed up the path. "You see what ledges are over there? And that path – see it? Narrow-narrow path! I mean, I am small, I don't need much space. But I'll be perfectly seen to the githyanki. Not that I _want_ to, of course – they didn't create a favorable impression on me so far…"

"By Kossuth's flames," Qara whispered. "Again that dam burst…"

"…Though that might be only partially due to their fault, just didn't have an opportunity for a closer communication. I am sure they are not as bad as they seem if you happen to find a suitable approach to them…"

"And they'll surely do everybody a favor by shooting you," Bishop stated.

"…but I am not that eager to right now. Some other time – maybe. What was I about?" he fell silent for a second, moving his lips mutely, then slapped himself on the forehead. "Oh yes! I mean, I remembered what I was about!"

"Yay," Neeshka drawled.

"Yes, about the path! It is small – just like I am. But I'll be seen. So, it suits, don't you think? All matches, all is correct, and the arrows don't fly by that trajectory."

They all stared at him.

"…What?" Adele blinked.

"Oh, these are only approximate estimations, of course! If you give me an hour, I'll surely be able to make nice calculations, down to inches, but right now, by eye, I can say that the arc of the trajectory seems too curved. I mean, if I was higher… or if they happened to have some special arrows with some kind of remote control, guess they would have had a possibility of hitting me. But this way, from their spot, I'm afraid, they won't be able to."

The silence that established after his words was so absolute, that one could make out a distant cry of a bird flying up in the sky.

"…Actually, he_ is_ right," Bishop said, his tone suggesting he didn't quite himself believe he was saying that. "Well, guess it's truth they say that madness leads to inspiration."

"Oh my!" Grobnar exclaimed, looking at him. "You are _so_ right, sir Bishop! For so many times I've noticed in others that-"

The ranger grabbed the gnome by the shoulder, spinning him around to face the path, and pushed him into the small of his back with a knee: "Move already. Time presses."

"Yes, yes, I'm terribly sorry, got carried away again a bit."

With that he headed up the path, quietly singing something under his breath as his habit was. The ranger turned to others, ignoring Adele's angry stare. "And you all just stay out," he said and, brushing past them, skirted the side rock and disappeared behind it, his wolf following without any command.

Judging by the commotion among the gith Grobnar didn't stay unnoticed. Despite everything, Adele felt her heart missed a beat when they started firing arrows, but as the echoes of their curses suggested, the gnome's "approximate estimations" were more than correct. Though the gith didn't spend much time testing his theory – from the shadow cast by a huge old tree hurled four arrows at once, going in pairs into the two of the creatures standing together on the opposite – left - side of the cleft; four arrows were followed by some more, that brought down the enemies remaining there. The archers on the right side, getting the hint that they were not attacked from the point they expected attack to come, quickly turned round, but three of them were immediately knocked over by the wolf who jumped underfoot and even pushed one creature down the cliff.

"Careful, a steep!" Grobnar cried out to the gith – too late, as the creature crashed down on the bottom of the crevice. "Ouch…"

Bishop let a few more arrows fly and, as the gith left their ranged weapons and drew blades, stepped out from the shadow, his left hand still clutching the bow, his right one unsheathing the longsword. He was constantly moving - dodging, turning, bending, hitting – so swiftly that his dusty cloak, disturbed by that permanent motion, seemed to envelop his form in a grey-green cloud, making it impossible to figure out where inside of it was the ranger himself – and thus making it hard for the gith to strike him.

Khelgar let out a whistle of approval, watching the ranger, and Adele glanced at the dwarf – but her attention became drawn to Qara instead. The sorceress obviously decided to take her part in the battle, as her eyes were closed, lips moved, articulating a spell. Adele wanted to stop her, when the air near her cheek stirred, swaying locks of hair that got loose from the tail, and an arrow snapped into the girl's staff, forcing her to back off and lose her concentration. Flinging her eyes open, Qara tossed up her head, glaring furiously at Bishop, who lowered his bow.

"If I want to get burnt," the ranger snarled, "I'll say so!!!"

"Would you, really?!!" the girl yelled back angrily. "I'll keep that in mind!!!"

Adele touched her shoulder appeasingly, almost jerking her hand away, as the girl's skin was white-hot. Qara shook herself, freeing her shoulder, and wrenched the arrow out of her staff, throwing it on the ground.

"An' again no left for me," Khelgar grunted, eyeing the empty mountainsides, sighed and followed up the path.

They caught up with Grobnar who was trying and failing to bring round the smashed githyanki, and Bishop came down to them in several leaps. His face still seemed crossed, and Adele was worried that if he and Qara start a fight it would be a real challenge to drag those two apart.

But the ranger just gave a curt nod at the path: "The cave's ahead, not far."

"Then let's get to it," Adele said as lightly as she could and went straight ahead.

In half an hour they indeed reached a cave, where they were already waited by the wolf. The tunnel led down, straight under the mountain. After sun-burnt rocks, steaming with heat, the coolness of the gith's lair was almost blissful.

The underground passage they followed was big, if not huge – in the semi-darkness it was nearly impossible to make out the ceiling above. Silence that reigned in the place made them all hold together, closer to each other, everyone looking around…

…but still they missed the moment when the githyanki stepped out of the darkness, surrounding them.

"Damn," Adele breathed out, turning on her heels and sensing that the others automatically did the same, standing up back-to-back in a totally enclosed circle.

"What, overlooked an ambush, you expert?" Qara hissed to Bishop.

"Shut your trap," he snapped. "They were under magical cover. Might've put _yourself_ out."

Behind her back Adele showed them a clenched fist hoping to kill two birds with one stone – to cut short a possible argument and to make her companions stall the attack for the time. As a gauntleted fist shortly hit hers in response, she realized that at least Khelgar got her point. Not for the first time the woman thought that when it came to battle the dwarf was the one to count on for understanding. Before she could do anything else, one of the gith came forward, a tall creature that looked a bit more important than others – mostly due to some kind of a feathered crown on its head.

But what made Adele's blood run cold was not the hat, but the face under it – the ugly face that branded itself inside of her memory by hurling a torrent of magic missiles on Amie.

"Zeeaire has foretold your coming, _Kalach-Cha_," he-she-it crunched. "She sent me here to end you."

"And you inform me about this… _why_?" Adele wondered coldly. "Usually you, guys, don't talk to me."

"I enjoy knowing my prey, _Kalach-Cha_. I find it sweetens the taste of their death." The creature bared its crooked teeth in a grin. "Zeeaire allows me this luxury."

"I'll buy some time," she muttered under her breath, knowing that her companions, standing close, would hear her, and smiled at the creature: "Well then, maybe _you_ will finally tell me what in the Hells this '_Kalach-Cha_' means?"

"_Kalack-Cha_ is the brand given to one who not only steals a silver sword," the gith explained indulgently, "but destroys the sword to hide the crime and then impudently carries its shards."

Adele arched her brow: "What, so many people had done that already that you even have a special name for it?"

The creature's fishy eyes narrowed in suspicion, grin faded: "Do you mock me, _Kalach-Cha_? No, your title is fresh to our history. Zeeaire gave you this name to properly classify the severity of your crime."

"So, this Zeeaire is kind of your legal expert?"

"She is a Sword-Stalker of the highest order. She is favored by the Lich Queen and has slain countless enemies."

"Well then, take me to _her_ in that case, we'll set the things straight."

"That's not for you to decide, _Kalack-Cha_. We-" the creature stopped as the sound of hurried footsteps approached from the depths of the tunnel.

Adele strained herself, slightly turning her head to others: "Seems the time's coming…" she pursed her lips, her gaze fixed on the mage. "But the Fancy Hat is mine."

From round the corner appeared another gith, running up to the mage. "We have a problem," he informed huskily.

"Then _deal_ with it," the mage growled. "I am not finished here."

The gith obediently bowed and retreated. The mage followed him with a contemptuous glare, then shook his head and started to turn back…

"NOW!" Adele shrieked, tossing her rapier up in her hand like a spear, and threw it at the creature.

The thin sharp blade effortlessly went into the scaly flesh, piercing the heart, and the mage stumbled, falling back. But even before his body touched the ground, Adele rushed up to him, tearing her weapon out of his chest and immediately driving it into the nearest enemy. Behind her back Qara shouted out a spell, and the woman was waved with warmth, but paid no attention to that, centering on avoiding the attacks of recovered from the blow githyanki.

Taken by surprise in their own ambush, not all gith came to their senses at once – and an assault from their small band put an end to them rather quickly.

"Surprise!" Neeshka snickered, hopping between the corpses to collect her daggers. "I like surprises."

Adele didn't answer, staring down at the mage's body and, unable to hold herself, kicked it in the side. Bishop, who was jerking his arrows free from the corpse pinned to the wall, looked at her with a mix of wonder and amusement in his eyes: "So, you hate men in general? Or has just this particular one failed to take your fancy?"

"…It's personal," she answered, still looking at the corpse. "He led the attack on my home. Killed my friend."

"What's the point in avenging the dead?" he drawled in an irritating 'that's-not-even-a-question' tone and shrugged. "They remain dead."

"Don't remember asking for your opinion, ranger."

He smirked: "That's because you didn't, princess."

She didn't answer, turning away from him.

"So, moving further?" Khelgar asked with common enthusiasm.

Adele nodded, taking a view of her friends to make sure nobody was seriously wounded. "Yes, the faster we get to-" she lapsed into silence as her eyes stopped on Casavir.

The paladin stood motionless, like a statue, staring deeper into the tunnel. His face was calmly concentrated, as usual, yet his eyes… almost imperceptibly they skidded along the ground, walls, ceiling, as if Casavir tried to find something he couldn't see – but felt.

"What's up?" Adele asked quietly, coming up to him.

"There is… something there," he answered just as quietly, probably not wanting to alert everybody. "Something is… resonating inside of me." He tightened his grip on the sword and raised his voice: "We should be cautious from now on."

Adele nodded again. The paladin's words should have troubled her – but they didn't. There was something about the man, surrounding him, some kind of aura – of faith, of light or whatever – that imbued confidence and composure.

They all moved further, trying to keep up the speed, but at the same time remain on guard, having no desire to walk into another ambush. There were githyanki here still – and probably a lot of them, so…

"Wow," Neeshka blurted, staring in wide eyes at the gith corpse that appeared before them in the next passageway.

The body was lying in the middle of the tunnel, maimed – if not to say distorted. The creature's chest was torn open, revealing the debris of ribs in the yawning hole, seemed to be left from the blow of incredible strength.

"Who…?" Elanee pressed a palm to her lips, looking at the corpse almost with pity. "Who could have done this?"

"Someone definitely not puny," Bishop observed, bending down to sit on his heels near the body. "Our friend was nailed down with a single hit. And almost no blood – the wound clotted immediately, like from the fire."

"Not guilty," Qara responded automatically, also eyeing the corpse. "A shame, though."

Neeshka suddenly jerked her head up, sniffing, and in a moment her tail started to sweep slowly from side to side, giving away her inner anxiety.

"Demons," she whispered.

Casavir nodded assent. Bishop gave a quiet whistle, standing up and nocking an arrow.

"What, we'll get arselves demons too?" Khelgar grinned. "Now that's a trip."

Adele was barely listening to them, moving along the wall, to the turn leading deeper under mountain. She didn't like the appeared feeling, weighing upon her, echoing inside of her ribcage, vaguely familiar… as if the air suddenly thickened…

No, not the air…

The shadows…

Keeping her breathing in check, she silently stepped behind the turn… and froze in her tracks, staring at a huge creature, almost three or four times higher than any humanoid being. It was almost as bid in width, which made him look like a giant toad, standing on its rear limbs, while its forepaws, ending in impressive razor-like claws, hung at its sides almost touching the ground. Ashy-green scale, heaving with spikes along the spine, a stretched out mouth filled with thin crooked fangs did nothing to adorn the monster either. Against such an impressive background Adele actually hadn't noticed one more figure, standing in front of the demon. She tried to take a better look at the person in long crimson-black outfit, but it wasn't that easy – he was covered with shadows, almost melting, blending into them, like he was here and somewhere else at the same time. Only an intricate tracery of glowing lines that covered his bold head glittered faintly in the gloom.

"Find the githyanki leader and retrieve the shards from her, Zaxis," he was telling the demon, who was listening to him with meek – if not slavish obedience. "Leave no one alive…"

He fell silent abruptly, turning his head a bit, and Adele shrank back behind the corner, flatting herself against the wall and shaking her head at her companions, who were also listening to the echo of the man's words.

"As for the newcomers…" the voice came again. "Whoever they are, if they hinder – deal with them."

The demon uttered a low hiss that was most likely his manifestation of agreement, and Adele heard the grinding of rocks under his claws.

"Whatever it is, it's leaving," Bishop remarked, his head cocked to the shoulder as he was listening to the recessive sound of heavy footsteps.

"Then let's run it down," Khelgar waved his axe.

"Hezrou," Neeshka muttered and wrinkled her nose. "Well, judging by the smell."

"That smell is not for judging, but for executing," Qara added in disgust, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

Adele brushed her free palm over her face and hair, tucking the loose tresses behind her ears, and strained a smile: "We always get the worse of luck, don't we?"

"Maybe find another way around?" Neeshka suggested without much hope.

"I doubt there is any," Elanee shook her head.

"We can make one," Qara shrugged. "Blow up the wall – it may lead somewhere."

"Shut up everybody," Bishop snapped his fingers, making others automatically fell to silence. "If I got the things correctly, that freak is killing gith."

"Yup," Adele answered. "That's his order."

"Then what's the problem? We follow behind him, he clears us the way from the gith – and in the end we deal with him if needed."

"…I guess," the woman nodded. "Yeah, sound enough."

The ranger waved at the tunnel: "Then let's get moving."

* * *

…They followed Zaxis' trail for almost an hour, yet the cave didn't even think about ending. The walls seemed to become smoother, which made Adele feel like they were no longer going along a cave, but more like ruins of some ancient underground temple or something like that.

Sometimes she got a feeling that the traces of frescos on the walls – faded, crumbled and by that looking somewhat… sad – seem familiar to her. Somehow they reminded her of the Illefarn ruins in the Mere, not far from West Harbor, where she had picked up the first of the damned shards.

Nonetheless, they more often came across gith's disfigured corpses than traces of long-lost empire. Zaxis obviously didn't allow anyone or anything delay him – so he just took the gith that got in his way and crashed them into stone-walls, breaking their bones. What was not good is the fact that Zaxis appeared to be not the only demon in the ruins: a couple of times they ran up against others – small winged creatures with monkey's faces and long tales whom Neeshka called 'mephits'. Those beasts fell on them with almost happy squalls – as if they were just waiting for someone whose ears they could rip up. It didn't make much of a battle to kill them – but it didn't restore frayed nerves either. One of the mephits actually ended up eaten by the wolf, and for a long time Adele couldn't help but look at him in wonder how animal's stomach would react on such a snack. But seeing that the wolf - as well as his master – was worried about that much less than she was, Adele stopped worrying either.

Taking another turn they found a surprise in the form of three gith. They were rambling along the corridor, looking almost lost, their faces keeping a stupid expression, colorless eyes glittering dully, like pieces of glass. They attacked – or rather tried to – but only when the travelers approached right up to them.

"Why our new friend Zaxis hasn't severed them, I wonder," Bishop pointed, shoving the arrows picked up from the bodies back to his quiver.

"They seemed to be under… some kind of spell," Elanee answered, waving her hand indefinably. "Their souls were… stunned."

"No, no spells," Qara objected with certainty. "It would have been seen by the auras."

"Charms," Neeshka nodded grimly. "Looks like here's succubi somewhere too. Shit, whoever did this all, he seemed to drag half of Abyss here."

Adele felt a cold shiver ran along her skin, as her memory produced the image of a figure cloaked in darkness with glowing tattoos, and the woman banished it hastily from her mind.

"Well, let it be succubi," Bishop shrugged indifferently. "They go down just like everybody else."

"Right ya are," Khelgar laughed.

"Besides, we have a holy warrior on our side. If I'm not mistaken, paladins are immune to charms," he smirked wryly, looking at Casavir, who was standing beside Adele. "Though… I may be mistaken, huh?"

As Casavir had already chosen, perhaps, the wisest tactics in communicating with the ranger – complete ignoring – he didn't answer. Not that he had time to, anyway, because at that very moment the passageway was filled with a boomy echo of metal chime, heavy and deep, like from the strike on something really impressive. The sound made everybody strain – after all, with their luck, it could be anything.

Well, at least nothing good, that's for sure.

Grobnar, who was standing the first to the turn, was also the first to follow the sound, apparently in genuine curiosity about what it could have been. Adele darted after him and even managed to outstrip the gnome, walking a bit ahead so that she had a possibility to catch him and withhold if needed. Others feel into their steps, weapons at ready, when the sound came again – this time chased by a chatoyant female laughter, that made the wolf toss his head a little, sniff and let out a low grunt.

"Oh my," Grobnar jumped on move, looking around. "What an… interesting laugh. I feel like something is… jingling inside of me in response."

Bishop, walking at his heels, grinned: "Not only inside of you, gnome. Succubi."

Neeshka snorted: "Men."

The tunnel led them into a small connecting cave, where at the far wall was looming a huge blade golem that looked familiar. The construct was standing motionless, only swayed a bit, because his shoulder was occupied by a half-naked red-hair woman, who was sitting bird-like, her webbed wings folded behind her back. Another succubus was strolling around the golem, the steps of her bare feet noiseless against the rock.

"Listen, listen," the first one snickered, moving to the top of the golem's head like a cat, and planted a hard kick on it, filling the cave with a familiar hollow echo. "Like the tolling of a bell."

"I can still smell the stench of its creator on its surface," the other one drawled. "It's running deep into the ore. Why would the gith keep such a thing, as broken as it is?"

"Let's tear it apart!" the first one suggested with fervour. "See if its limbs twitch when cleaved from the body."

"Succubi," Neeshka hissed and shook her head. "Always want to amuse themselves – no matter with what or whom."

"Well, what do you expect," Bishop nocked an arrow with a smirk. "Women."

The demoness sitting above jerked her head up, looking at them, her eyes gleaming yellow in the dark, and smiled: "Why... it seems one victim has drawn others!"

The second succubus turned round, also looking at the newcomers, and threw her hands up with a pleased laughter – and the next instant was surrounded by a cloud of shade, pitch-dark, thick and viscous like ink. Her friend spread her wings and swooped down from the golem's head on them, but Bishop's arrow found her shoulder, swinging her around in the air. She hissed in pain and dove to the wall, clutching at it and digging all her twenty claws into stone, but the second arrow run into her throat, releasing a fountain of blood. With a gurgling wheeze the demoness fell on the ground, writhing and clawing at the rocks to stand up, but Khelgar was already at her side, delivering a fatal blow.

Occupied with watching the first demon, they almost missed a second one, who used her shade-cover to sneak up closer, but was forced to crouch to avoid Casavir's strike. His sword only managed to slash her left wing, and the succubus tried to dart back, into the darkness, but the paladin stepped right after her, and his mere presence seemed to deplete the shadows, leaving the demoness opened. She groaned in frustration, grabbling back, but only in order to use her hands and knees to push herself off the ground to a jump. Casavir brought his shield forward, backing off a little as the succubus crashed into it, then pushed her back and stroke a swinging blow, gashing her chest and stomach. Making sure that the demoness was dead, he lowered his blade.

"Funnier and funnier, eh?" Khelgar breathed.

"What's going on here at all?" Qara shook her head.

"Like I know," Adele answered, through the dispersing darkness peering at the outlines of the construct. "Where did they get that one from? And what is it, anyway?"

Bishop smirked, eyeing the golem: "Who cares? Anything being torn apart by demons is an ally in my book."

"Well, at least ya hafta admire the craftsmanship here," Khelgar nodded respectfully. "Looks to be made of solid steel."

"Yes, the ore was tormented for a long time to take this shape," Elanee added. "But it is… damaged, broken?"

"But still, such a beauty!" Grobnar exhaled admiringly, coming up to the golem and throwing his head back to take in the whole view. "Just to think what kind of enchantments that must have been inscribed in its core… My, this is fascinating!"

"It looks exactly like the one that attacked us in Neverwinter," Casavir noted thoughtfully and frowned a bit. "Or is it the same construct?"

"The githyanki must have captured it after it went through the portal!" the gnome exclaimed. "And somehow… severed it from the one controlling it! And damaged it in the process so badly… Or have we damaged it already back then?"

"Anyway, obviously this thing wasn't on the githyanki side," Bishop said. "Or those demons. Which means there's someone _else_ tracking our movements."

For some reason, there was a single name that popped in Adele's mind on his words.

_Garius_.

The ranger looked at Adele: "How much enemies do you have, anyway? There's almost more than I can count."

"Now there's a surprise," Qara muttered.

Bishop cast her a short glare. "Watch it," not giving her any time to answer, he looked back at the construct. "But this thing can be worth some coin. Let's take it with us."

Adele eyed the mechanism up and down and stared at the ranger: "You're kidding."

"_You_ don't want it – I'll take. The thing's made of good metal, worth much if sold in parts."

"Oh, oh, yes, let's take it with us!" Grobnar jumped in delight. "You know, I even think that after tinkering with it for some time I might make it work again!"

Now Adele stared at him: "Are you mad?"

"He is," Khelgar grinned.

"Me?" the gnome asked. "Why? No, I'm not mad, I'm very calm. I mean, who wouldn't want a chance to examine it! And I'm relatively sure I can control it. Relatively… Just to figure out the runes, rewrite them… patch up a little… oh, in this place particularly," he rapped at the steel surface, and the golem twitched, its blade slicing through the air barely an inch above the gnome's head, taking a few tresses of his hair. Grobnar slowly turned around, looking at others, his eyes and smile equally wide: "Have you _seen_ that?! Amazing!"

"Yeah," Bishop nodded thoughtfully, probably wouldn't have even winced if the gnome ended up cleaved in parts. "I'm thinking it could be even sold to a wizard."

"Alright, listen," Adele put her free hand up. "If you two think that I'll allow you to drag this… uncontrollable armed monstrosity into the city, you are deeply mistaken."

The ranger waved her off dismissively: "You can boss around all you want, princess. I'm still coming back for it after I get rid of your bunch."

"Oh, and I'm coming with you, sir Bishop!" Grobnar chimed happily.

"…I'd sooner stab myself in the throat, gnome."

"No! Please, don't! Why?!"

"What, a man can't have good wishes?" Qara snorted.

Bishop didn't have any opportunity to answer, as in from the distance again came the sound of succubi laugh. Exchanging glances, they went in that direction, everyone readying their weapon.

_Almost wish we were attacked more often,_ Adele sighed inwardly. _When no enemies are around, we start acting like we are ones._


	15. XV: through Demons and Gith 2

**XV**: Through Demons and Gith (part two)

The tunnel again led down, flowing into a huge square chamber, it walls covered in ancient peeled inlay. The passageway went further – but was blocked by a transparent shimmering wall, quivering slightly in the air like a mirage. In front of that wall of light, inside of a circle of chained together runes drawn on the floor towered a figure of a man in long dark robe. His pointed ears, chalk-white skin and a relaxed yet dignified bearing made him look almost like an elf…

…but in sharp contrast to all that were his reptile eyes, fixed on the three succubi that clustered around the circle, probably unable to step into it.

"Oh, sssshit," Neeshka whispered, suddenly starting to scratch her neck and shoulder, wincing a bit as if from pain.

"Beg your pardon," Casavir stepped away from her.

"Nah, it's not that… it's… argh, damn," she furiously raked her nails along her arm.

Bishop, already pulling the string of his bow with an arrow ready, glanced at her in irritation before returning his eyes to the succubi: "Damn you, tiefling, can you louse somewhere else?"

"Oh, fuck you," she sniffed in response, her red eyes glued to the figure in the circle.

"Such a rare opportunity, my sisters," they heard a purring voice of one of the succubi. "A mighty devil, trapped and helpless."

"Perhaps we can find a way to amuse him?" another laughed. "To lessen his suffering somehow?"

"Or perhaps we could convince him to amuse_ us_," the third added, bending down slightly and from that position looking up in snake's eyes. "What say you, devil? Are we not worthy of your attention?"

The devil in question didn't move, staring back at her silently and indifferently. She sighed: "Sisters, it appears that this handsome one is immune to our advances."

The second succubi pouted: "Such a shame... and to be turned away by such indifference. Why, I am dreadfully hurt."

"But is he indifferent to pain?" the third succubi wondered with a sly grin. "_That_, perhaps, is worthy to test."

The first one swiveled her head and hissed: "We're not alone, sisters!"

They rushed to attack, but Adele managed to hold her companions from counterattacking, waiting for the succubi to bunch together in their haste, and after that gestured to Qara. With a grin the girl hurled a long ago prepared fireball at them, knocking the demons off their feet – not that they were damaged by fire, but the force of the blow was enough to send them flying, past the devil who followed the three of them with the same apathetic glance, and right onto the shining wall, where they simply disappeared in the blaze of white sparkles, leaving nothing but a faint smell of ozone.

"Uh-huh," Adele nodded at the result of an experiment and sighed. "So, we _won't_ be able to pass there as well."

"Yeah," Neeshka echoed, still rubbing herself violently, and landed an angry gaze on the figure on the circle. "What the...? This guy... Look, he freaks me out."

"So, going to kill him too?" Bishop wondered, nodding at the devil.

"He can't leave the summoning circle," Casavir said.

"And who cares?"

Meanwhile Adele stepped towards the circle, ignoring cold tingles down her spine, caused by an intent stare of reptile eyes. As she approached, the devil bowed his head slightly in greeting.

"Well met. I am grateful to you for ridding me of those..." he gestured absently at the wall where the succubi got incinerated, "…nuisances."

"Don't talk to him," Neeshka hissed.

The devil shifted his gaze at her, and the corners of his lips moved faintly in a smile: "Ah. I see you have brought blood of the Lower Planes with you. Well met to you, tiefling."

"Don't talk to me like we are pals!" Neeshka spat. "I can always smell a trick, so you just try anything – and you'll see much more blood than you expected!"

"Hey, hey," Adele softly caught her shoulder, as the tiefling looked like she was ready to jump on the devil, and Neeshka gave a start, staring at her. "What's gotten into you?"

"I… Nothing! You just can never trust devils! Especially when they are so _polite_!"

The devil sighed: "Unfortunatelly, such prejudices are not uncommon even in the lower realms… I meant no offence. Regardless of your intent, you actions have benefited me. I wish to help you in return, if you will allow it."

"Be careful," Casavir said almost in a whisper, standing behind Adele's back.

Adele nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the devil, and shrugged: "I'm sure, your offer would be more than tempting and with a great many catches, but I'm really running out of patience and time right now, so…" she shrugged again expressively.

The devil's smile became more obvious: "Well-spoken. I, too, have little patience for the... unpleasant nuances that usually mark such bargains offered by others of my kind. You see, I am not here by choice. I was bound to this circle by the githyanki... enemies of _yours_, I believe. Once bound, I was forced to shape the barrier you see ahead, to prevent any... trespass."

"…Really?" Adele eyed the wall, then looked back at the devil. "Then how do the gith pass through it?"

"Ah, but that is exactly the irony of my present state. You see, it was not the githyanki that commanded such a shaping. My fortune played a cruel joke on me, as the soul of the githyanki, who summoned me, was devoured by a demon named Zaxis. By doing that Zaxis gained her power over me… and, alas, there's nothing_ I_ can do about it. And if nothing is done, the barrier, unfortunately, remain."

"So what?" Neeshka folded her arms stubbornly. "I can pick _any_ lock, magical or whatever."

"I have no doubt of that, tiefling. But this barrier is not a simple thing of stone, metal or clever lock. It cannot be dispelled either," he added, for a second moving his gaze towards Qara and by that preventing her from any words. "Just like the githyanki portals, this barrier exists outside this plane – and can be destroyed only by the contact with another similar barrier. For now my presence here feeds it," he tilted his head a bit. "However, if you were to banish me, it will disappear."

"You _want_ us to banish you?" Adele clarified.

"By all means. Today is clearly not _my_ day, and I would prefer to spend the rest of it in my home Stygia."

"And how do we do that?"

"You can do it by speaking my true name. I will tell it to you – but, of course, I will need your promise that you will use it only to banish me. This agreement will be as binding as this circle. If you have any doubts, please know that I only wish free passage for us both."

_And wouldn't knowing your True Name give me control over you?_ Adele mused, not tearing her gaze away from his eyes, bored deeply into her eye-sockets. _Yeah, sure… you wouldn't just throw it around if it was _that_ easy, would you?_

She pursed her lips, licking them from the inside, and then nodded: "…Alright. As long as you honour your side of agreement not only in words but in thought and deed, I agree."

"Of course. My kind is bound by laws as well, you know. Now, listen carefully..." he bent a bit forward. "My true name is 'Mephasm'. Not hard to remember, is it? Now speak it and say "I command you to be banished from this plane."

"Very well," she backed off from the circle, breathing in air, still crisp from the sparkles of the barrier. "Mephasm, I command you to be banished from this plane."

Tiny flames of fire blazed at the border of the circle, making others tighten their grips on weapon. But Mephasm just smiled, closing his eyes in bliss: "At last…"

He turned to the barrier, stretching out his hand, and the wall suddenly started to compress in the middle like a sheet of paper crumpled in a fist. A moment – and there was only a small glittering sphere lying in the devil's palm.

"And that is all that left," he concluded, again looking at Adele. "Barely a pebble, and an obstruction no more. Here, keep it," he tossed it to the woman, and she instinctively caught it in the air, raising her brows in silent question. Mephasm smiled again: "A gift. It may be of use in the time between our next meeting."

"_Next_ meeting?!" Neeshka snorted. "Not if we can help it!"

He shot her a brief glance, still smiling: "Ah, would that you were able, little one," he nodded to Adele. "We _will_ meet again."

And disappeared in a cloud of crimson smoke.

Elanee gave a quiet sigh: "I miss the Mere… Now I start to think it was so peaceful there."

Adele looked at the sphere, shimmering gold in her palm. It wasn't cold or warm, it just… was, but she had a feeling that it tries to seep through her fingers as if wanting to dissolve into the air.

"Throw it away," Neeshka suggested, her voice still carried traces of irritation and suspicion.

"Why?" Grobnar wondered. "No, you shouldn't, really! It is so beautiful, such a shimmer…"

"I don't sense any… danger in it," Adele muttered. "Maybe I'm wrong, but… he did gave it to me for _some_ reason, right?" shaking her head, she placed the sphere into her breech-pocket and looked up at the opened passageway. "Let's go."

* * *

…Khelgar lowered his axe, in wide eyes staring at Zaxis, who's massive hulk got engulf in flames and collapsed on the floor, his carcass fading as well as his screams until it was no more.

"Did ya…?" the dwarf stared at up at Adele, who let out a breath of relief and wiped her sweaty neck. "Did ya just talked a hezrou demon to suicide?!"

She smirked at him: "And you said talking won't do me any good."

"Conclusion: it sucks to be an idiot," Neeshka grinned, looking at the spot where the demon used to stand.

"I don't think he died," Casavir noted. "He was… banished also."

"Well, he is not here anymore – and that's just fine by me," Adele lifted her eyes at the stone door to gith chambers that had cost Zaxis his presence on the plane. "So, Neesh… What say you?"

The tiefling strode to the closed door, studying it carefully, while the others took the opportunity to have a break. Adele leaned against the wall, sheathed her rapier, rubbed the wrist of her fighting hand absently to ease the tension in the tendon, then took a gulp from her waterskin and dried her lips with the back of her palm. She hoped that with all the distraction caused by demons the githyanki didn't have enough time to harm Shandra.

Elanee's eyes were closed, and that was the only indicator that the elf was trying to recover her mental powers. Khelgar still looked stunned by what has happened to Zaxis, combing his beard thoughtfully. Casavir stood not far from him, upright and stoic, as usual, though his armor looked dull from all the blood it was stained with. For what must have been a hundred time Adele wondered how in the Hells was he able to move, fight and walk so much with all the amount of metal on him. She didn't wear any armor at all apart from her thin jerkin, yet still even she felt that the tunic underneath it was soaked with sweat.

Grobnar made himself comfortable right on the floor, writing something hastily in a thick journal he took from his pack, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Qara tapped her fingers impatiently over her staff, her small foot tapping over the ground in unison. Adele smiled inwardly on that. For all Qara's elitism and arrogance, Adele found herself actually growing fond of the snotty little sorceress. It was like having a capricious peppery younger sister.

She shifted her gaze to Bishop – only to be met with a return gaze. The ranger watched her out of the corner of his eye, his lids lowered, face still, unreadable. He didn't avert his eyes, and Adele arched her brow at him, expecting another crude or smutty comment that was surely to come, but instead his lips only twitched slowly into a familiar wry smirk.

"Well, eat my tail," Neeshka's voice distracted her from staring competition with the ranger, and Adele looked at the tiefling. Neeshka shook her head in defeat. "The door is not trapped, not locked – 'cause there isn't any lock at all."

"Force it?" Khelgar suggested, though his voice didn't sound convinced in success – they all saw how Zaxis tried desperately and failed to do that already.

Qara opened her mouth – probably to suggest blowing the door up – but before she could even start saying something, the door flied opened, making Neeshka jump to the side and flooding the tunnel with dim purple light, that made it hard to see what was inside.

"Wow," Neeshka giggled nervously. "Never thought I could open doors with my will."

"Don't like it when doors open by themselves," Adele muttered, pushing herself off the wall.

"There are gith," said the tiefling, carefully stepping from behind the door and peering inside the chamber. "Looks like they are waiting for us."

"Maybe they want to talk too?" Grobnar supposed.

"So, princess, how about talking a pack of gith to suicide?" Bishop grinned. "Can you handle that?"

Adele suddenly found herself grinning back: "You never know until you try," she shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair nervously. "Alright, everybody, just be ready for a trick."

She entered right after Khelgar, stepping to a chamber with a large translucent glimmering sphere in its centre, looking just like the portal they saw at the gith's lair in Neverwinter. The sphere was surrounded by githyanki, two dozens at least, but they didn't attack, closely watching their company coming in. Adele shot a brief glance to the far corner of the room, at a cast-iron cage cut right into the wall; inside of it, on the floor, sat Shandra, pale, tousled, slightly bruised and obviously pissed off. Noticing Adele's glance, she threw her hands up in a "yeah, look where I've got myself into" way.

Adele's eye caught some movement inside of the shining cocoon of the portal, and she turned to it, facing a tall skinny githyanki woman in scale armor that almost merged with her body.

"Think I know now whom to bring down first," Khelgar nodded.

"So," the gith inside the sphere smiled. Her grey skin was stretched so tightly on her skull that the whole face was moving along with her lips. "Though those demons were unanticipated, your arrival was not. I have seen it burning brightly in my visions for some time," flat colorless eyes turned to Adele. "Did you really think you could escape us for long, _Kalack-Cha_?"

"Well, here I am, ain't I?" Adele smiled back at her, hearing the reassuring quiet rustle of her friends' steps as all of them tried to take better positions for attack. "So, release Shandra, then we'll try to come to know the particulars of our relationships."

Khelgar tried and failed to stifle the guffaw that overrode quiet chortles from the rest of her companions. Even Shandra snorted, looking at Zeeaire: "Trust _me_, once _she_ gets on your trail – you are doomed."

"Know that you are in no position to demand _anything_ from me!" Zeeaire hissed to Adele. "You will answer for your crimes – along with this frail thing that carries last of the Jerro blood."

"Why would she answer for _my_ crimes? Or she happened to commit her own already?"

"You know the answer, _Kalack-Cha_. Her ancestor stole a silver sword, priceless relic of our people."

"But he is long dead."

"Yes," Zeeaire sneered. "The lifes of humans are all to brief. But their sins are passed to their kin. And so has the crime of Ammon Jerro passed to his descendant for her to answer. Just like you will answer for yours."

"I've got four on the right on me," Bishop whispered behind her back.

"I'm taking the left side then," Qara added.

"Need ta lure the ugly one from her shield," Khelgar grunted. "She's surely safe there, or wouln't've been so bold."

Adele cast one more quick glance over the gith. Too many. Too dispersed. And indeed, Hells know how to get Zeeaire out of her sphere.

The woman took one more step towards the portal: "I have the right to know what crimes I committed."

Zeeaire stared at her unbelievingly: "You don't know your crimes? You have slaughtered many of our people! And you hold in your possession relic sacred to the githyanki, a…" she suddenly gasped, stumbling in her words for a second, then swallowed: "…silver sword of our people… fragments of it."

Adele arched her brow, having the feeling that if Zeeaire was physically able she would have probably blushed: "So it's not just an ordinary silver sword?"

The gith grimaced, which made her mug, repulsive as it is, even more horrible: "You think there's something special or unique about your crime? Or the shards you carry?! There is not! You have nothing that other thieves have not stolen before!"

"She's lying!" Neeshka exclaimed and nudged Casavir standing not far from her. The paladin nodded silently, and Neeshka turned to other githyanki: "Come on, she _is_ lying, you can tell it! It's written across her face!"

"If it is a _face_," Bishop smirked.

Zeeaire stared at them furiously: "You dare to presume to know more than I about this matter?!" she shouted, and Adele did her best to hold back a snort. _The sword or the face?_ "You know nothing about what you've done! Nor the importance of what you carry!" _The sword it is then… what a relief._

"Well then, don't protest that much," she shrugged and smiled. "Makes me wonder, you know."

One of the githyanki soldiers standing near the sphere cleared his throat: "Zeeaire, forgive my words… but I too felt the power from the shards when the _Kalack-Cha _entered… and when I gathered the shards you carry."

"As did I," another added. "This seems a matter greater then us. Our Queen should know of it. It has been too long since we have sent words to her of our… actions here."

Several more gith nodded in agreement, but Zeeaire just waved them off: "Ignore the words of the criminal – they are deceptions! She seeks to manipulate you like illithids did! Do not allow it!"

The githyanki exchanged grim doubtful glances, and then suddenly the most part of them marched to the door in firm footsteps. With the same smile Adele stepped aside to let them pass.

_Not a good idea to consider and call your own soldiers idiots, Zee._

"Looks like she lost some of her… face…" Bishop's whisper came to her ear, almost making her jump. _And not a good idea to forget that this guy is somewhere behind your back. _"We may be able to count on some more defections if things turn nasty."

"You had doubts that the things _will_ turn nasty?" Adele wondered without turning to him, earning a hoarse chuckle in response:

"I never do."

"Enough of this!" Zeeaire barked, glaring at Adele. "You will not stall your punishment any longer! If we were in Astral Plane the Lich Queen would see that you were slowly tortured… killed… and then raised again in countless cycles. Your crime merits _many_ deaths. But I will allow you the last chance to atone for your crime," she tossed her head up arrogantly. "My offer of mercy is this – I shall grant a swift painless death for you and your companions if you freely hand over the shards."

Adele shrugged: "I have a counteroffer to save us both some time. A duel. You and me. The winner gets the shards. Simple as that."

The remaining githyanki again exchanged glances. Casavir looked at Adele: "You do not seriously expect us to stand aside and watch you fight this creature on your own?"

"Please, Casavir," Adele sighed, "I do not expect her to _accept_, no matter how sound is the offer."

"I'm through with it!" Zeeaire spat, and the woman shrugged at the paladin, indicating proof to her words. "Just like I'm through asking for what I may simply take from you!"

With that she waved her hand, and Adele felt her bag sliding down her shoulder. The woman caught the strap, but it burst with a snap, and the pack fell on the stone floor. Adele fell right after it, grabbing it and trying to hold, but the pack itself tore as the sharp edges of the shards cut through its leather side, flying into the air and disappearing inside Zeeaire's sphere, and all Adele could do was to slap her hand helplessly on the floor: "…Damn."

"Did you really think you could keep such relics of my people?" the gith mocked, catching the shards from the air. "They do not belong to you," she fell silent suddenly, her eyes narrowed at Adele as she drawled: "Odd… I have all the ones you carry... and yet it seems you still possess one…"

"I don't, trust me," Adele snapped angrily, pushing herself off the floor.

Zeeaire. paying no attention to her words, waved her hand once more…

…and a thrust of pain in the chest made Adele's legs and arms bend under her, her whole body coiling up, tears splashing out of her eyes, a high-pitched groan trickling out through set jaws. Someone fell to knees beside her, soft arms wrapping around her waist, but Adele didn't even feel that, didn't see anyone through the dark shroud of pain covering her eyes, and only Zeeaire's astonished voice reached her, muffled and distant as if tearing its way through a wall of wool:

"…You have a piece of the sword inside of you…"

The gith rushed, her companions met, blades clashing, arrows and bolt whizzing, spells flying… Adele didn't see that, didn't hear, didn't get. She just stared stupidly at the cave floor underneath her, blurring before her eyes. A single crimson blot appeared on the rock. Adele tore her palm off the floor, so slowly like there was a bag of stones hanging on it, and wiped it against her lips, leaving a smear of blood on her fingers, then stared at it, just stared…

…In her chest…

That scar…?

_No… No, it can't be… I…_

_You could have guessed a long time ago, you insolent fool,_ her inner voice whispered disdainfully.

"Get up," Elanee's soft voice somehow managed to pierce the fog of pain, her arms tugging at her waist. "You should, this creature is-"

She didn't finish her words, pushing Adele away and herself rolling aside, allowing a bolt of blindingly-blue lighting strike the empty spot between them. Zeeaire cursed and started casting another spell, but Adele, coming to her senses from the jolt, jerked her head upwards, squinting her eyes at the shine of the portal…

…and suddenly remembered Mephasm's words.

…_**can be destroyed only by the contact with another similar barrier…**_

"Oh, you… devil," she grinned, pulling the pebble he gave her from her pocket, squeezed it in her palm and hurled it at the sphere, shouting: "Back off everybody!!!"

A wave of hot sparkling air crashed into her, almost singing her face and hair, but it didn't matter – what mattered was the sight of the sphere shudder and disappear in a wheezing cloud of the blast. Snatching her rapier, Adele abruptly straightened her legs, pushing herself up and forward, diving into the mess of fire and debris, her eyes searching frantically for the glimpse of Zeeaire. The gith leader has also collected herself, but before she could do that completely, Adele rushed at her, making her back off under the pressure of swift rapid lunges. Zeeaire parried, but the woman couldn't help but notice how sluggishly she moved, her grey scaly skin seemed to wither outside the sphere, fade, melt…

Dodging, sidestepping, thrusting, Adele pressed on her, her own movements a cold calculated gale, her pain nothing more than a scourge making her move even faster. She didn't stop, she _couldn't_ stop – because stopping would mean ache, coughing, blood…

Zeeiare's back hit one of the stone wedges that used to be a hold for the portal, and Adele ran into her, plunging her blade deep in her stomach. The gith let out a shuttered wheeze, her body scrambling down the wedge, on the floor, and Adele followed, kneeling on top of her and pressed the point of her rapier to the wrinkled neck of the creature.

"Don't move," she breathed out and grinned herself at the uselessness of her warning – the gith couldn't move in her state even if she wanted too.

Zeeaire panted, looking up at her, her deep gasps an echo of Adele's own erratic breathing that sounded damp from the blood, that flooded her throat from the lung severed by the shard. Behind her back the woman heard established silence, as her companions had finished off the last of the githyanki, and were now probably also busy with calming themselves down after the fight.

"You…" Zeeaire whispered almost mutely, the dust from the explosion falling slowly on her disfigured face, sticking to blood on her thawing skin. "You think this is over? You are wrong, _Kalach-Cha_… _So_ wrong… I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousandfold. The Lich Queen will know of my fall," the gith croaked, her fading eyes fixed on the woman, "but it will be too late. What comes for you will be revenge enough."

"What, even no threats of how the githyanki will get to me in the end?" Adele wondered, a few droplets of blood escaping her lips and trickling down her chin.

"We were never the ones you had to fear… In defying us, you have harmed only yourself… your own people… everything on your plane… The shards you carry were needed... the shard in you... all are _needed_… Evil wakes, _Kalach-Cha_, and in killing me you now stand alone against what comes."

"…What are you talking about?"

"An ancient enemy comes for you… one that has existed for millennia…" a convulsive gloating grin twisted her lips. "You have already felt the effects of his presence - and he will grow stronger with time… This enemy… this… King of Shadows... he would turn your civilization to dust… life to death... There will be no more attacks from my people, because it will serve no purpose… You have sealed your fate."

"Just my luck, huh?" Adele smirked down at her, almost sympathetically. _Yeah, several minutes ago you are a mighty Sword Stalker – and now you are nothing more than a pile of dying flesh under someone's blade… Must be terrible._

"I will see you in death, _Kalach-Cha._" Zeeaire mirrored her smirk, her colorless eyes closing in acceptance. "I do not think I... will have to wait long."

Adele nodded: "See you, then."

…and thrust the rapier down her throat, eliciting one last choking wheeze, rasping and strident, that made tiny hairs on her arms stand on end – and then there was blissful silence.

Bishop flinched with a chuckle: "And that's all we needed to hear from the start, I think."

Adele chuckled humourlessly in response, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on her folded hands that were still lying on the hilt of her rapier stuck deep into gith's neck. Giving herself this second to relax, she swallowed down the blood that rose again in her throat and stood up, leaving Zeeaire's body, avoiding looking or touching it anymore, wiping off the rest of the blood from her chin.

_Guess I look scary right now with all that blood on my lips… _involuntarily she looked down at the wolf, whose own muzzle was stained with blood, and grinned at him. _Like I had bitten Zeeaire to death_.

Elanee's arm folded around her waist, helping her to stand steadily, and she smiled gratefully at the elf.

"Can you hold until we make camp?" the druidess asked with care. "I think I'll be able to attend your wounds after a short rest."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Adele nodded, her smile becoming a bit grim. "Not the first time, after all."

She looked at the cage where the gith kept Shandra, seeing Neeshka already busy with the lock, but before she could come up to them her gaze met with that of Casavir. Paladin's eyes were shocked, wide as he stared at her.

_Oh my, do I look _that_ scary?_

"Why have you done this?" he asked.

"…Why have I done what?"

"She had the right to say her last words, not be killed."

Adele blinked at him in disbelief, looked at Zeeaire's corpse, then back at him: "She _did_ say her last words."

Casavir shook his head: "There was no reason for you to end her like this."

Adele arched her brow at him.

_Heard that, Zee? Fighting __you is good. Battling you, slashing, stabbing, leaving you, humiliated and crippled, to die in agony or beg for forgiveness... it's good. But _killing_ is bad._

She tried to say anything, but all that escaped her mouth was a cough, a few drops of blood falling on his armored chest, and the paladin lapsed into silence.

_Well, judging was to be expected, after all. He is a paladin._

"Sorry," Adele rubbed the blots off from his armor with her sleeve and smirked from the way how easily the plate became shining and clean again, then looked up at his face: "Let's just get Shandra out of here, I'll eat something, be healed – and then I'll be ready to debate the morale. Right now I'm not really quick-witted from the bloodloss."

He opened his mouth to say something, his expression caught somewhere between disapproval and shame, but didn't come up with words. From the side came a rusty Bishop's chuckle, who was occupied with looting corpses but never the one to miss someone's conversation nonetheless: "Pinned down, paladin."

Casavir shot him an angry glance, but the ranger paid no attention to it, rolling one of the bodies on its back with his foot. Khelgar patted Casavir's back with an understanding grin: "Lad, ya don't wanna argue with the lass who talked hezrou demon to suicide, trust me."

Adele, no longer engaged in the conversation, just came up to Shandra's cell. The blond woman herself was watching Neeshka battle with the lock, her head pressed to the bars.

"Gotcha!" the tiefling finally grinned, stepping aside, and Adele opened the door.

Shandra smiled wearily at them: "I'm getting _so_ tired of this," she muttered, rubbing her eyes and looking at Adele: "You have to let me save you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back."

Adele squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and went back to Zeeaire's body, remembering that she hadn't recovered the blasted shards from her.

"Oh, don't worry, girl," said Bishop, looking appraisingly at the amulet from one of the bodies. "There'll be plenty of time for you to pay _all_ of us on the way back to Neverwinter."

Shandra folded her arms: "Well, actually, you all _put_ me in danger! I'm not paying you a single coin," she tousled her hair nervously. "Not that I have any on me anyway."

The ranger shrugged indifferently, putting the amulet into his pocket, and the same appraising gaze slid down Shandra this time: "Well, then you'll be paying me another way," he smirked. "My bedroll's a little cold at night... I'm thinking you can fix that."

Shandra's face fell a full inch, her eyes huge in indignation.

"I won't have you speaking to her - or _anyone_ else that way, Bishop," Casavir cut off.

"Oh, really? What a surprise," he quirked his brow questioningly at the paladin. "And how'd you like it if I left you here in Luskan territory with your righteousness to keep you company, huh?"

"I bet Qara can simply put him on fire," Neeshka suggested, nodding at the ranger. The sorceress grinned. "That'll solve two problems at once."

"Ah, you wound me, girls," Bishop drawled in mock sadness, then smirked again. "Or is it jealousy I hear? Don't worry, I'll get to you soon enough."

"Gods save me," Qara winced. "The smell would kill me first."

Grobnar, who had been turning his head on them all this time in wonder, finally gave way: "And what did sir Bishop mean?"

As usual his words made everybody stare at him, until Bishop gave a short derisive laugh, slapping the gnome against his back that almost send him flying: "Let's get moving, you worthless piece of meat. Maybe I'll tell you in my spare time, seeing how Mom and Dad hadn't bothered," he looked back at the others. "So, whom are we waiting for? We've got our precious little farm treasure already."

Shandra scowled at him, and Bishop grated her with another telltale grin.

"Bishop," Casavir growled in warning.

"Hmm?" he responded, deliberately not tearing his unnerving stare from Shandra.

"Alright, people, that's enough," Adele whispered tiredly, coming up to them and rubbing her scar absently. "We should leave."

"Agreed, get a move on," Bishop nodded.

He leaned against the wall in the doors, letting others out first – probably to savor friendly glances once more. Adele, who was walking out the last, said quietly: "Cut it off, Bishop, please."

"And what's wrong?"

"Can't you see, Shandra's tired, and-"

He smiled slowly: "Jealousy's thick in this little band, I see. Don't worry, princess, I haven't forgotten your pretty face."

She regarded him with a long stare, then shook her head helplessly: "And here I hoped you had."


	16. XVI: Grin and Bear It

**XVI**: Grin and Bear It

…_**Adele turned the small edgy shard in her fingers, catching glares of torchfire with its smooth surface. Her fingertips were tickled by a strange sensation, like tiny needles of ice prickling at them, the same feeling she had when she first laid her hand on the shard back in the Mere, in the ruins, where she had recovered it. The tang of ice was so strong at that moment that she had almost dropped the shard.**_

_**Turning it once again, she lifted her eyes from the shard – and Daeghun did exactly the same, just in time for their eyes to meet. His emerald stare was motionless, piercing, blank, his iris reflecting the flames of fire just like the inanimate object in her hands.**_

"_**Why would they want it, anyway?" she finally wondered, quietly, so that nobody could hear them. They were standing behind the barn Brother Merring chose to place the wounded to, so that he could attend to them.**_

"_**I do not know," the elf answered, his voice calm and even, as always. Adele didn't know if he seriously took her remark as a question that needed answer or was just also sharing his doubts. With Daeghun one could never tell. Even his foster daughter.**_

_**She looked down, at the pack she dropped to her feet. Everything was ready for her journey, she wished all the farewells she wanted – but something just didn't allow her to go. **_

_**She didn't like this shard. Not in the slightest. Didn't like the fact that some strange creatures had attacked their village, killed so many people just for a stupid lump of metal. **_

"_**Why can't we just give it to them?" she shrugged, again turning the shard over in her fingers. And she definitely didn't like that tingling sensation inside of her veins that this stupid lump of metal caused. "I mean, not like we have some use from it."**_

"_**But we do not know what use those creatures would have from it. A mere glance at them makes it doubtful that they will use it for good purpose." Daeghun gave his head a barest of shakes, final and irrevocable. **__**"No. You should take it away. Far away. Besides, if we give them the shard I doubt it will prevent them from believing the second one lies here as well… or others."**_

"…_**Others?" she whispered this word through her teeth bared slightly in a soft grin, addressed to Bevil, who was passing by at that moment. The young man threw a quick questioning glance at the two of them, silently wondering what they were talking about, and Adele hoped that her smile would convince him that everything is alright and make him leave before he got another icy stare from Daeghun. Luckily, it did. The moment his back was to them, Adele's smile disappeared, and she looked at her foster father again. "So there **_**are**_** other shards?"**_

"_**We do not know what this thing was before it was broken," Daeghun said, not turning, but Adele knew that he had been well aware of Bevil's presence nearby, as he answered only when he was out of ears reach. "We only found two shards. It is possible there were others – scattered into the swamp, taken away or…" he shifted his honed shoulder slowly in a shrug, "…met other end."**_

_**Adele studied his face, ever-young yet hardened and tanned by years and travels, the face that always reminded her a mask cut from a piece of wood bark – firm, aloof, bearing only slight traces of emotions.**_

"…_**There's something you are not telling me," she finally said, looking him straight into the eyes.**_

_**The elf's face remained still. "There are many things I have chosen not to tell you," he admitted calmly. "And that is because they are not relevant."**_

"…_**Uh-huh," the woman nodded. "Enlightening."**_

"_**Perhaps if you were to question less and heed my words it would prevent you from being confused."**_

"_**Then I shall ask no more," she nodded again with the same slightly bitter sarcasm and lifted her bag from the ground, slinging it on her shoulder, and stared at him one last time, her brows raised in feigned exaggerated question: "So, I take this is all **_**your**_** 'farewell'?"**_

_**He was silent for some seconds, just looking at her, then nodded. "Maybe one day we shall speak again," he added, "and finally gain an understanding of each other."**_

"…_**Yeah," she smiled at him shortly. "**_**Maybe**_**."**_

_**Daeghun suddenly raised his hand, placing it against her cheek, and the tip of his thumb brushed lightly over the bridge of her nose – but before she had any opportunity to react somehow or even understand what was going on, he made a step back: "Go now. And be safe." And with that the elf turned away, heading back to Brother Merring to help him with the wounded. Adele followed him with her eyes, then sighed and jerked her shoulder to shift the pack to a more comfortable position, then looked at the path leading out of the village, into the eternal mist of the Mere.**_

_**Need to get going. The sooner you start – the sooner you finish. And she had quite a way ahead…**_

* * *

…Sitting on her bedroll, Adele opened her eyes at the sky: "Oh, that feels much better, thank you."

Elanee's palm patted her back. "I'm not finished yet," came the elf's concentrated voice.

"…And it _already_ feels better," Adele grinned, suppressing another cough and placing her elbows on her bended knees. The raging inside of her chest had finally eased, but she still felt a bit dizzy.

They made a camp not far from the cave – enough to keep an eye on it in case some of the githyanki remained there in hiding. On their way back they met none. Seemed that even those soldiers of Zeeaire that left instead of fighting had truly left – to their Astral Plane or whatever.

Despite the fact that it was dawning already they set camp for 'the night'. Qara was the first to take it literally as she has fallen asleep almost immediately, exhausted (but not admittedly, of course) by the battles – not physically, but in some other way that only mages knew. Adele remembered that all too well from her friendship with Amie.

Amie…

"If you run across the one who killed Amie – stick a blade through his heart for me," Bevil told her as she was leaving West Harbor. Well, she did just that. Stuck a blade through his heart. For some reason she thought such things – revenge, poetic justice and all that stuff – should make you feel good, satisfied at least. But she didn't feel anything like that even when she kicked the body. It changed nothing. Bishop was right – avenged dead still remained dead.

Another warm wave of Elanee's healing magic washed through her insides, and Adele closed her eyes, enjoying the relief it gave. Neeshka and Khelgar's voices grumbled not far from her, near the fire; they were arguing. Arguing about what to cook. Not that it mattered, really – Neeshka and Khelgar argued every time they had a reason. And when they had no reason, they argued just on principle. Shandra kept quiet, sitting on the edge of the camp, wrapped in a blanket and drinking something from the mug, probably still a bit out of sorts with everything that happened to her – but, in Adele's opinion, she was handling herself quite well for someone who had spent two days in gith's captivity. Or, perhaps, it was Casavir's aura doing the job of calming her again.

Bishop was out scouting and was nowhere to be seen – which suited Adele just fine since it made it impossible for him to deliberately unnerve everybody. But his absence obviously put Casavir on guard. Then again, it seemed that Bishop's presence did the same. Like the ranger's mere existence put the paladin on guard – whether he was around or not. Grobnar again was busy with writing something down, from time to time rising his head to smile or frown thoughtfully at someone's comment. But, at least, no one was tip-toeing around Adele like she was dying anymore, which seemed the best.

"You know," Adele muttered, looking at the gnome and not really addressing Elanee – just out of her habit to ponder aloud. "I'm starting to think that it would actually _be_ a good idea to take Grobnar to meet Aldanon… well, when the district would be open finally."

"You think?" Elanee wondered from behind her back.

"Yeah. He surely has his own way of thinking and seeing things – just like the sage. Perhaps, together, they'll talk to some interesting point about this whole shard mess… especially considering… err… new development," she rubbed her scar.

The elf stood up, looking down at her: "Why don't you just have some good rest for a while? For a change."

Adele smiled at her, leaning against the boulder she was sitting near and resting her head on it: "Then, I'm afraid, you'll have to ask Khelgar to knock me out of conscious."

"I will," Elanee threatened jokingly, but her face quickly became serious again. The woman raised her brows, suddenly having the feeling that the druidess was actually struggling for words. "Adele…"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to tell you that… I didn't know. About the shard."

"…Oh…" Adele shrugged. _I know you didn't, El. I know _**you**_ didn't._ "Well, neither did I. Though should have…" she tousled her hair, looking into space. "At least now I know why the Hells I've always had this strange reaction for that rubbish… and why everywhere I went I heard that name – 'King of Shadows'… Honestly, too much for a simple coincidence…"

"That's it, I'm going to Khelgar," Elanee concluded, and Adele chuckled, rising her hands in defeat.

"Fine, fine, I'm a good tired dying girl," with her foot she hooked up the blanket lying on the ground not far from her, dragged it up to her hands and covered herself up to the chin, flashing the elf her best broad smile.

Elanee shook her head with a soft sigh: "Sometimes you are such a child."

"Because sometimes you are such a mother," Adele teased, tucking her bag under the small of her back and making herself more comfortable near the boulder. "D'you think there's anything warm to drink?"

"If not, I'll make something," Elanee nodded and went deeper into the camp. Adele smiled at her back, watching the druidess come up to Neeshka and Khelgar near the fireplace. The tiefling shot a quick glance at Adele and, noticing the woman looking back at her, winked encouragingly and grinned.

Closing her eyes again, Adele drew in a deep breath. She could swear that now she felt the damned shard inside of her. Not just _knew_ that it was there, but _felt_ – coldness of metal stuck in flesh. She hoped that hot tea or whatever Elanee would make would wash away that coldness. At least for awhile.

She reached for her pack, pulling it from under her back, and sat, poking her hand into it in hopes to find something for a snack – and couldn't help but snort when her fingers went through the holes in it's side cut by the shards when they had went flying to Zeeaire.

_Guess, I should be happy that I didn't get those in my chest…_

_Well, actually, I am._

"Adele?" came familiar deep voice.

She turned her head and squinted when sun bunnies from the metal surface of plate-armor hit her eyes again.

"Need to do something about your armor, you know," she muttered, lifting her still narrowed eyes at him, and smiled. "Make too obvious aim of yourself with it."

Casavir's stony face softened a bit from her smile – maybe because he was glad that she wasn't holding grudge against him concerning his less-than-appropriate condemnation in the githyanki cave. Or maybe he softened because her smile had that undeniable – though unclear "why?" to Adele herself – ability of making men softer.

"I was thinking about it myself," he confessed finally, then his look changed to that of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I am," she lifted her bag and wiggled her fingers still stuck out of holes, earning what passed for a smile from the paladin. "The pack wasn't that lucky though."

"It is remediable, I believe," he nodded, making her smile grow a bit wider. _Why does he usually hide so hard that he has sense of humor? _

"So…" she shrugged, "…now I am ready to debate the morale if you are still interested." He was silent for some time, looking down at her, as if trying to understand whether she was serious or not – though Adele would prefer him to notice that it was actually not very comfortable for her to sit with her head thrown back and closing left or right eye in turn from the sun. "Well, I did promise to, didn't I?"

"…Forgive me if my words back at the cave were too harsh. I assure you that they held no insult towards you."

"I know," she answered almost in surprise. _He thinks me wrong – and _he _asks for an apology? For what, for thinking?_ Adele slid up the boulder and sat on it – at least it provided a better angle of observation. "It just was… strange. I thought you of all people should have been ready to put an end to gith's… activity as soon as possible."

"I… understand what you mean," Casavir said – a bit slowly, almost carefully. "As well as I understand your anger at those creatures, after all they put you through. And Zeeaire, being their leader and thus directly responsible for everything they had done under her orders, fully deserved punishment. But it is my belief that every criminal also deserves a right to atone for their crimes – all the way until death comes."

Adele did her best not to wince – for Casavir's words of crime and atonement suddenly sounded too much an echo of Zeearie's.

"Huh…" she propped her head with her hand – felt that the pack was still hanging on it, shook it off on the ground and repeated the gesture. "Funny…"

"…I'm sorry?"

"Well, I mean, the whole thing that for them it was _me_ who was a criminal. You heard them - I had pieces of the sword, I killed many of their soldiers, blah-blah… And if they had killed me and cut the shard out of my chest – they would've returned to their Plane as heroes, been praised by their 'Leech' Queen, and it would've been a great celebration in the githyanki camp 'cause of recovering of their priceless sacred relic. They would've been the good guys and the right ones," she looked up at him again - his blue eyes dull with thoughts, he himself still and motionless, almost like the construct they had found in the cave – and swallowed down all other words that were ready to roll off her tongue: _It's not really about justice or fairness, is it? It's about who wins._ Those were definitely not the words one should tell to paladin of Tyr - Adele understood that all to well. So she just grinned: "Nah, don't mind me... As an acquaintance of mine once said, sometimes Del thinks unpardonably much for a woman."

Casavir frowned a little: "That was not the most appropriate thing for him to say".

Adele chucked, rising to her feet: "Come on, he was a bard – they earn their living with pretty songs and cutting remarks. Besides, you don't get offended by truth," she gestured at others, at the fire, where Neeshka and Khelgar seemed to finally reach an agreement about breakfast. "So, what say you about getting some fuel?"

He didn't even have to answer, his scarce smile was an answer enough. Adele couldn't help but notice that since joining their band Casavir began to smile more and more often - which was a good thing, because most of the time he left an impression of being constantly depressed or troubled with something.

Slipping through the camp, she paused near Neeshka, almost stumbling over the tiefling's pack, swollen with all the loot crammed into it, and peered curiously into the boiling pot on the fire: "What's that?"

"We'll live and see," the tiefling snorted and nodded at Khelgar. "Stumpy agreed to be the first one to taste."

"Eh," the dwarf ran a piece of grindstone over the edge of his axe. "'Cause ya all ar so picky."

"So, I take everything is alright?"

Qara, lying in her bedroll not far from them, groaned without opening her eyes: "They won't shut up."

Neeshka giggled: "Yeah, and Qara won't shut up about how we won't shut up."

"Shut up," the sorceress crawled deeper into the bag, until she completely disappeared inside of it, cutting off any sound or light.

"Oh my," Grobnar cocked his head to one shoulder, looking at her, then to the other: "You know, it almost looks like miss Qara got eaten by a giant worm."

Khelgar laughed, his thunder-like chortle as usual overlapping chuckles of others: "Ya surely hafta add that to yer tale, gnome!"

"Yup, everything _is _alright," Adele grinned, taking a mug Elanee passed to her. It felt pleasantly warm against her fingers. Taking a sip of the liquid and recognizing one of the herbal infusions the druidess was so good at, she looked again into the pot: "I think I have some time before this medley is ready, huh?"

"Sure ya do, lass," Khelgar nodded. "If not – we'll leave ya some."

Smiling at him, Adele turned on her heels and headed away from the camp, before anyone could stop her and hearing a soft doomed sigh of Elanee behind her back.

She knew she needed rest. More so – she _wanted_ to have rest. But it seemed that 'having rest' was not in her nature at all. At least not when she had so many things to think over. And thinking was hard with so many people trying to calm or soothe her. Soothing never helped – Adele felt herself much more comfortable after considering the whole situation and coming to at least _some_ sound conclusions.

_Dear friends, hear out a story about a girl who walk__ed out of her village and ended up with an ancient enemy coming for her,_ - she thought, stepping down a thin rocky path to a tiny clearing and leaning – almost throwing herself - against a lonely tree. - _King of Shadows… Who is even King of Shadows?! What does he have to do with the gith and their godsdamned swords? What does he have to do at all? With me?_

_Dammit, somebody shut this brain off._

Closing her eyes, she took a big gulp from the mug, rubbing the tip of her thumb absently along its rim and silently savoring the warmth that was spreading through her insides – together with the warmth of sunrays sliding over her face. The feeling made her smile, and she only winced a bit, scratching her back over the harsh bark of the tree to ease the itching between her shoulder-blades from the dirt and dried up sweat.

_Here's a nice plan. Come back to Neverwinter, have a good bath and a good sleep – and then bother about King of Shadows__ or whatever. Clean and clear head thinks better, - _nodding to her thoughts, the woman sipped a little more of the liquid. – _Oh, it's good. Wonder if Elanee adds some calming draught into this stuff_.

With a deep quiet sigh she slipped down the tree into the sitting position. Really, things weren't that bad. After returning to Neverwinter she could write a letter to Aldanon, maybe make some inquiries in the Archives concerning that long-ago war with King of Shadows… Or Sand probably knows anything – the elf seemed to know at least something about everything. Or even Grobnar can come up with some legends or songs about the matter. Those were comforting thoughts. Thoughts that stopped her from staring at the sky where she always imagined the gods were and simply asking: _Are you kidding me?_

_"Look up and don't believe your eyes -  
__The black beast lurks high in the skies –  
__I sense disaster in his glare…"_ she murmured instead a part of the song and sighed again. _Ah, I'm definitely in the mood of remembering old friends today._

Adele tried to bottom the mug, but realized it was empty already – and, taking that as a sign she should go back to the camp, got to her feet…

* * *

"Hey, welcome back!" Duncan greeted them cheerfully. "Glad to see you've all returned, and in one piece no less!"

After days of journey being back in home and familiar atmosphere of 'Sunken Flagon' was a real bliss, for almost everyone – judging by the way how gladly and tiredly at the same time they were greeting the half-elf. Only Bishop passed him by without any acknowledgment and headed straight to his customary place at the end of the counter, gesturing to Sal for a drink. Neeshka hurried to the fireplace to be able to warm herself up before the wolf drove her away. Khelgar, being in quite elevated moods after all the githyanki and demons they've been through, followed the ranger to get his share of ale. Elanee silently slipped into her favourite armchair, almost curling herself into a ball in it. Qara, giving her employer a rather cold greeting, took a stately retreat to her room before Duncan could make her 'work' again. Shandra, still silent and somewhat confused, took a sit not far from Casavir, who sat down only after making sure that everyone else made themselves comfortable.

"Alright, out with it," Duncan rubbed his palms, looking at all of them in turn. "What happened? Tell me the tales, the songs, the whole bit!"

"Uh, I could sing a few songs, if you were will-" Grobnar tried to begin, but the half-elf immediately pointed his finger on the gnome:

"No way! _You_ – be quiet."

Adele, taking place at one of the tables and propping her elbows on it, watched her uncle for some time, then drawled: "Why don't _you_ tell me something instead."

"Huh?" Duncan looked at her incredulously. "About what?"

"About the scar on my chest."

He frowned: "Look, I… I don't know why you're asking… Surely you've heard this before. You were just a babe when West Harbor was attacked near the end of the war with the King of Shadows... you suffered that wound from a stray arrow or debris."

"No," she objected in the same even tone, holding his gaze. "Not an arrow. And not debris. There is another shard inside."

"Inside the wound on your chest?" he clarified and tried to chuckle skeptically, but failed. "That means you've been carrying the shard around almost your entire life? I... we had no idea."

"Ah," Bishop gave voice, turning round on his bar-stool and throwing his feet up on the next one. "Notice the stumble in his words. Your uncle's been keeping secrets, I think."

"Silence, Bishop!" Duncan barked, eliciting a gloating sneer from the ranger, twisted pleasure from Duncan being uncomfortable all too obvious on his face. When the half-elf looked back at the woman, Adele calmly and silently met his stare, having no desire of helping him out of his predicament. Hells, she was too tired of helping anyone right now. Shaking his head in defeat and resignation, he came up to her, lowering his voice almost to a whisper so that she was the only one to hear. "Look… I don't know if I'm the best one to be telling you this, but… if you've got one of those shards _in_ you… You've probably earned the right to hear everything."

"Probably."

Duncan sat on the chair beside her and cleared his throat, bracing himself: "Well, Daeghun most likely already told you, but when you were an infant… in that war with King of shadows… West Harbor was the site of a battle, a terrible battle. It was struck suddenly, without warning. There was panic... confusion... villagers fleeing every which way to escape the battle. But Daeghun's wife Shayla... and your mother, Esmerelle, did not… They stayed behind to save you. And by the time Daeghun realized they were missing, it was too late." Adele closed her eyes, and Duncan fell into abrupt silence, but she waved for him to continue. The half-elf still hesitated for some time, obviously trying to come up with words, then sighed: "When the few that remained returned to the village - no one was alive. Except you."

_Well, bloody lucky me._ "And mother?" she asked.

"...Esmerelle was there... so much blood, and... you were clutched in her bosom, a deep wound in your chest. She'd tried to shield you, but... the shard must have cut through her and into you… No one knew how you survived. But you did, and your wound sealed itself within days, leaving the scar that you still bear…"

_Bloody lucky me twice._ "…And here all my life I've been told that she died soon after giving birth to me," Adele muttered and suddenly chuckled grimly, her eyes still closed. "Well, weren't lying 'bout that, eh?"

"It wasn't my decision to keep what happened to your mother from you... I swear." Duncan's voice was soft and almost – what, scared? "Daeghun, he… guess, he thought it would be too much for you."

"Yeah… Really want to hope that it was exactly what he thought," she looked at Sal and nodded him, hoping that the bartender had already learned her favourite wine. Her companions exchanged questioning and a bit nervous glances – all except for Bishop, whose narrowed eyes were fixed on Duncan, mug of ale frozen in the air half-way to his mouth.

"Believe me, I wanted to tell you. For all these years it was like a stone on my heart, and…" again he was silent for some seconds, then shrugged: "But if that wound was due to the shard that pierced you, then that raises many questions... and I'm afraid I'm just all out of answers."

"I understand," she shook her head, banishing the thoughts. "Thank you for telling finally. All that silence around her almost made me suspect she was a criminal that got hanged or something else nasty…"

A smile broke on his lips, smile of relief and a bit of sadness. "She wasn't. But she would have had a good laugh at your words, that I can tell… Never thought one could inherit the attitude from their parent – but you surely did," he covered her palm with his. "And I'm also glad I could finally speak of it, it's been with me for a long time... It's just-"

"And why the long faces, you two?" Bishop wondered, advancing the table with a bottle from Sal, and placed it in front of Adele, his own mug in the other hand. "Somebody die? If so, sounds like a cause for celebration to me."

Duncan glared at him, but the ranger merely smiled in return. And there was something about his smile Adele didn't like.

"Thought you'd like to celebrate your riddance of us," she drawled, not really teasing. She was too tired for that too. Bishop didn't answer, with the same smile occupying a spare chair on the other side of the woman and uncorking a bottle.

"Grobnar, you worthless half-man!" he called out. "Come on, strike up a tune - before I strike you."

"Of course, sir Bishop!" the gnome nodded eagerly. "It so happens I have just the tune..."

"By the way," the ranger added, not looking at Adele, but no longer paying any attention to Grobnar either. "I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"…Why is that all of a sudden?" she arched her brow.

He shot her a sidelong glance and snorted: "What? Does a man need a reason? Come now," he gulped in a whole mug of wine and leaned back, swinging his feet up onto the table and lacing his fingers on the back of his head, rocking the chair lazily on two legs. "Duncan's kind request was enough to start this, I think - why not finish it?" regarding her with another glance, he smirked. "Admit it, princess, no way in the Hells would you have rescued the farmgirl without me."

"We are grateful for your help, Bishop," Casavir filtered, ice in his voice suggesting he didn't really mean it, "but we no longer need it."

Adele could almost hear the gnashing of ranger's teeth as his glare darted to Casavir: "Ah, why don't you let the woman speak for herself, paladin, without you speaking for her, eh?"

"No, no, really, there's no need, Bishop," Duncan chimed in. "I'm sorry for before, but you've done more than..."

"Oh, come now, Duncan, I still _owe_ you," he smiled again, but somehow that smile didn't match his eyes fastened back at the half-elf. "And what better way to make it up to you than watching your niece here? After all, a debt is a debt all the way until the end - isn't that right?"

"But I'm not paying you," Adele warned him.

He rounded his eyes in phony injured innocence: "I'm hurt you value our friendship so lightly! Why would I need more money? I haven't had so much fun in years as in these past days. So I agree to a fare share of everything we come across – that includes both dangers and treasures."

"What?!" Neeshka bristled. "Hey, I'm the one charged with total treasury here!"

"Well then, we'll talk to you," he sniffed. "Later. Some day. Maybe."

"Look…" Shandra suddenly spoke, and others looked at her. The blond woman obviously felt herself lost, though tried hard to hide it – and achieved exactly the opposite. "I hate to ask, but... what happens now? I mean, I can't go back to my farm… well… ashes and all."

"You don't have to," Adele said. "You can stay with us if you want."

"Her?!" the tiefling folded her arms. "Alright, I'm definitely _not_ sharing anything with her!"

"And what would we even take her for?" Bishop drawled. "To have someone who's easy on the eyes?" he shrugged. "That's what I'm here for, I believe."

"If she wants to – it is her right," Casavir said, looking at Adele. "But in light of all the recent attacks… it might be dangerous for her."

"Aye," Khelgar agreed. "She'll need to do at least some catching up. We can't just keep on rescuin' her all the time."

"Rescuing me?!" Shandra gave her head a stubborn shake. "I can rescue myself! Sometimes…" she added, averting her eyes, "…when there's not too many lizardmen… or githyanki…"

Adele eyed the woman, recollecting how she had instinctively slashed the gith that grabbed her back at the farm, how she handled herself being captive – and shrugged: "I think she's quite capable."

"Oh…" Shandra blinked in surprise and smiled faintly at her. "Thanks."

"Besides, don't you need her to get to unlock Ammon Jerro's Haven?" Duncan blurted.

Shandra's stare grew gloomy: "And thanks for that… A little more compassion is going to kill me."

Bishop chuckled, stretching himself lazily: "Well then, as long as we simply _need_ her with us, and don't want her - I'll drink to that."

"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Bishop," Casavir growled.

"And maybe you should listen with your ears, paladin. Anyway, it's the princess who calls the shots - we just obey. As will the farmgirl in time."

Adele shook her head, keeping her stare on Shandra and hoping to distract her from the others with it: "If indeed you _want_ to," she repeated. "If not – I'm sure Duncan would gladly offer you a room to live here for the time." She threw a questioning glance at the half-elf, and he nodded readily.

"Well… I… " Shandra hesitated. "I think I'm safer with you, guys, around."

"Then it is her decision," Casavir nodded.

"Ah, farmgirl, you've just agreed to die before your time…" Bishop re-filled the mug with wine and saluted to Shandra with it. "So be it."

"But for free," the tiefling muttered.

"Neeshka," Elanee whispered reproachfully.

"What? Going to squander everything in a wink that way!" she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, let her stay if she wants to."

"Well, thank you _all_, of course…" Shandra drawled.

"No need to thank me, farmgirl," the ranger threw his hand in the air. "Travelling with this band is, perhaps, the worst decision you can make – believe me."

"Already starting to," she cut off grimly, then looked back at Adele. "I won't try to get in your way or anything. And, well, I know enough to use a sword… I mean, I'm no spellcaster or some such, but if you need an extra blade... just…" she sighed. "I just don't want to be left behind. I've got it already that whenever I'm alone, that's when the problems seem to crop up…"

"Shandra," Adele said as softly as she could. "I never meant for anything to happen to you or your home. If I can make it up to you, I will. Besides, I'll try to teach you what I can…" she grinned. "Not that I ever taught anybody, but I'll do my best, I promise."

Shandra smiled again: "Then that's all I ask."

"So she's joining the band after all," Bishop smirked, leaning on the back of the chair and swaying the toes of his boots slightly. "Good. Maybe she'll make up for the paladin... or at least catch arrows if the gnome's already dead," he looked back at the counter, at the barrels behind it. "For now, I say we crack some of those kegs and drown the Flagon in wine. Surely, at your niece's expense, Duncan."

The half-elf helplessly shook his head. Adele shot a glance at the ranger: "One day I'll kill you, Bishop."

"Better one night, princess," he smirked…

* * *

He watched her.

Watched as the others of the 'royal retinue' gladly joined his offer to celebrate. Watched as Her Swamp Highness herself got to her wine, smiling at her motley horde, at the gnome who finally got the opportunity to rattle about something like a box of dried beans. She was always smiling, little lizard, that calm and soft frugal smile of hers that seemed to mesmerize the paladin. With the same smile she dragged herself and her crew through the days of their journey. And with the same smile she finished off the main gith. Bishop could swear that the paladin had had a tiny heart-attack the second her rapier suddenly went into the throat of the creature. And she smiled after that too. Not a flinch. Not a jerk. Not a frown.

_Still waters run deep, princess, don't they?_

Not that it really mattered. Not that the girl herself really mattered (what was even her name, anyway?). What mattered was the sight of Duncan's face when he was telling her that oh-so-tear-jerking story of her mother's death. She wasn't smiling at that time. And when she even closed her eyes… oh, Duncan looked like he was ready to kill himself. That terror in his stare, fright that she would not understand, that she would take it badly…

_Guess__ I've found your soft spot, Duncan. You really care for your scrawny shaggy niecie, don't you?_

The sight almost made it up for the whole trip. For the whole bullshit with debt. He was so careful all this time, he was so quiet, he kept low profile, until step by step he almost turned himself to something like a piece of furniture in the 'Flagon' – something that is always there but no longer attracts attention. He left for hunting, made his smuggling routes, every time a bit prolonging his absence, making Duncan get used to it – simply for the sake of not returning at all one day. He would have been far-far away by the time Duncan came to his senses. He was so close, so damnably close…

_Here I thought of leaving peacefully, Duncan. But you just needed to open your huge blasted mouth and spoil everything._

_Well, no one to blame but yourself._

Oh, he would help the girl – no harm in making some coin out of her troubles. Maybe even fuck her for good measure. Though she was too tall and skinny for his tastes, and he would probably have to apply all his tracking skills to find her breasts, and that stupid two-coloured hair of hers - like she was wearing a dead badger on her head – still, why not? She had pretty enough muzzle. And it was long ago since he had stopped making any particular distinction between women, anyways. Legs could be different – in-between was still the same. And then… who knows how the wind will blow?

Bishop took another sip of his ale.

_You will regret the day you brought up your debt, Duncan, that's for sure. You will regret the mere day you charged me with it. Regret the day you even 'saved' my life. I swear, you'll regret it. _

_Regret just like I do. _

* * *

_A/N: The song Del's singing is my clumsy translation of a Russian one "The Black Moon". The full variant below._

_Thank you all, those who take time to read my story – and, by all means, feel free to review._

_The Black Moon_

_Making up the blackest of her schemes,  
__High in the sky the moon looks down and grins.  
__And stars glint like a pile of arrow-points.  
__Taking aim at mist of our dreams,  
__Sadistic love is gloating and sneers.  
__Too late for us - she's gotten us in sight._

_With palm as a shield  
__I shall cover your heart  
__You fly now, don't be afraid  
__Of anything anymore.  
__Your heart is false-bottomed  
__On top it is covered  
__By soft grass, that grows  
__On bed of granite stones._

_Look up and don't believe your eyes –  
__The black beast lurks high in the skies –  
__I sense disaster in his glare.  
__I never knew and, guess, won't ever know  
__Why does he want so much your soul -  
__Even in Hells it still won't burn._

_With palm as a shield  
__I shall cover your heart  
__You fly now, don't be afraid  
__Of anything anymore.  
__Your heart is false-bottomed  
__On top it is covered  
__By soft grass, that grows  
__On bed of granite stones._

_For __those __of __my __compatriots __who __read __it__: извинитесь перед группой «Агата Кристи» за то, что стырила песню без спроса – ну, если вы вдруг с ними лично знакомы и братья Самойловы спросят:)_


	17. XVII: Kill a Village Become a Noble

**XVII**: Kill a Village - Become a Noble

"From the left!" Adele shouted, lunging at her, and Shandra warded off her rapier with the sword, immediately taking the opportunity to make a counter-attack. "Good. Very. But a little lower, maybe."

"Mind your right foot," added Casavir, watching the fight closely.

"An' harder," Khelgar chimed in.

"Hey, not all at once!" Shandra answered, parrying several further thrusts, and made a step back, catching her breath.

"Much better, really," Adele pointed, lowering her blade.

"Well," Shandra ran her hand over tousled hair. "I'm glad _you_ think so."

Adele smiled.

Shandra indeed was doing fine. A few quiet (surprisingly) days allowed Adele to train her as she had promised, taking advantage of early hours at the 'Flagon', when not much visitors were around – and those patrons that lived in the tavern on permanent basis came to enjoy their usual morning sparring. To her satisfaction Adele found out that Shandra truly had abilities, and considerable ones. Certainly, Bishop suggested killing her right on spot to put her out of her misery – but what else one could expect from Bishop? All _his_ helping in training lied in endless comments on the subject of 'why chopping off both Shandra's arms won't spoil anything', which, by all means, earned him deepest affection and sympathy from Shandra herself. But, at least, the woman could handle a sword, so Adele didn't have to start from nothing in her teaching.

Good reflexes, enough endurance – to smooth a bit abruptness and gustiness of her movements, and the result could be more than decent.

And, of course, there was a matter of ammunition. Neeshka grumbled that since they were such a crowd already, somebody might actually find a job or something. To that Bishop simply offered selling her and Grobnar to the first moving circus they come across. Qara added that he himself might become quite a purchase for the Blacklake Zoo, even more as an animal at that. The ranger agreed that it wasn't such a terrible fate, because, unlike him, Qara wouldn't be a nice purchase for anybody, even for local Docks brothels, even with his personal recommendations and even if it would be their band that paid the brothel to take her. Casavir made a suggestion that he watched his tongue, which Bishop naturally ignored.

Just an everyday routine of their company.

But despite constant squabbles, things weren't that bad. At least, no one threatened anyone, no one kidnapped anyone, no one came for the shards. Adele had written a letter to Aldanon, got his reply filled with jovial and excited assurances that the sage would investigate the matter in the Archives as soon as he settled his 'misunderstanding' with them. It was hard to tell _when_ would that happen, but the woman had to agree to that state of affairs.

Apart from Aldanon, none of her ideas worked. She tried to find out anything about the war with King of Shadows, but it appeared that no one actually _knew_ anything about the war, only the fact that, yes, the war definitely was – something she as a native of West Harbour could declare better than anybody. Who was King of Shadows, why he attacked Neverwinter, how was he defeated – Hells knew. Even Sand shrugged him off as a simple warlock of some power and, probably, some old grudge for the city - but had to admit that those were his mere assumptions, nothing he knew for certain. That seemed strange, since it was customary for bards to tell tales about great wars of the past, just like for people - to fancy such pretty epic stories. So Adele made her conclusion that the story with King of Shadows was _not_ a pretty one. At least not for Neverwinter.

For now she put her trust into Aldanon's vigorous interest in the whole mess - it suited her. She trained Shandra, and the results suited her as well. Actually, everything that allowed her to have some distraction from the thoughts about a piece of metal plunged in her chest and all concerned suited her just perfectly.

Taking off her jerkin, Adele threw it on the chair and turned to Shandra once more, waving her rapier invitingly: "Shall we?"

The blond woman shook her head, her cheeks flushed, eyes glittering: "Wait, wait, I'm out of breath a little," with a wince she dragged off soft training leather gloves, glaring at her palm rubbed sore from the hilt of the sword, then presented it to Adele as if an accusation. "Like I've ploughed a whole field after the drought".

Grinning, Adele showed the other woman her left hand, any sores she had from the rapier long ago turned into hard corns, protecting her palm better than any gloves: "Tell me about it."

Khelgar laughed: "Ya frail lasses wanna measure battle bruises – ya admit failure ta me at once."

"No argue there," Adele chuckled, then looked back at Shandra. "Alright, since we are tired, I'll change into something clean and say we have some fresh air. The weather seems good – which is rare for Neverwinter – so why don't we take advantage of it, huh?"

"Sign me in," Neeshka agreed, who straddled a chair near the wall to watch the duel.

"Sign everybody in, I think," Qara responded, waltzing her way between Adele and Shandra, holding a tray of dirty mugs high above her head. The girl still resented her obligation to work in the 'Flagon', but, having no other choice, worked, though with a look of doing an unspeakable favour to the place. Moreover, she got her hand in at dragging rather good tips from out the customers.

"You'll be back just in time for dinner," Duncan added.

"Then I'll be quick," Adele smiled.

Flinging her jerkin over her shoulder, she went to the corridor leading to rooms. She felt also tired from the training, tunic clung to damp skin, and the woman lowered her gaze, pulling the fabric down and fanning herself slightly with the hem to cool down a bit.

"Oh yeah," she heard Bishop's voice and started. The ranger, who had probably just left his room, now leaned against the wall and without any pangs of conscience stared at her.

"Oh no," she smirked, without slowing her pace and leaving him behind, knowing perfectly that he followed her with his eyes. Bishop's stares were always physically tangible. There was no point objecting – Adele had more than enough time to understand that the man didn't have a single drop of shame or manners in him, and arguing with him was as fruitful as spitting against the wind. So, matching his tone and way of behaviour, she at least got less of his usual mockery than others.

…_which is, of course, the only reason,_ - her inner voice added archly.

Dispelling those thoughts, Adele entered her room and shut the door behind her back. After changing the tunic for a clean one, she spent some time just standing beside her bed and looking at the silver shards piled out on the blanket near her pack, then shoved them inside and grabbed the pack itself with her. She didn't like the idea of leaving the shards unwatched, even for a small while.

Coming back to the main room, she found others in obviously changed moods and instinctively tarried in her steps. Shandra, death-pale, sat on the sofa, staring into space with hollow glassy eyes, Casavir's firm hand squeezing her shoulder. The paladin himself looked like he was intently thinking something over, and something not pleasant. Neeshka exchanged totally confused glances with Khelgar, who grumbled quiet dwarven curses into his beard. Bishop, sitting on his customary place at the end of the counter, seemed indifferent, as usual, but the way his eyes were narrowed also made Adele feel uneasy.

"Somehow I have a feeling we are _not_ going for a walk," she drawled.

At the sound of her voice Casavir rose his head, concern evident on his face, but before he could say anything Adele felt Qara nudged her with an elbow on her way to the tables she was serving, pointed a bottle of ale she held in her hand towards the fireplace, and woman's gaze lingered on a tall fair-haired man in already familiar bright-blue outfit of Neverwinter Nine standing there.

"There you are," he said, stepping towards her.

"Have we met?" Adele wondered.

"He's sir Nevalle," behind her back Duncan said quietly. "Leader of the Nine."

"…Oh," she bowed her head mechanically. "What can I do for you?"

From her side came a crunch as Khelgar pushed nearby chair towards her: "Ya have a seat, lass."

"Do I need to?" Adele arched her brow at Nevalle, who folded his hands behind his back and gave a deep sigh:

"I am here because Torio Claven, Ambassador of Luskan, has accused you of murder, lieutenant."

"…What?" she chuckled unbelievingly, but her smile faded away quickly. "Look, if she means the 'Sea Ghost', then-"

"No. The case is more… serious than that. Have you heard of Ember?"

She didn't answer at once, staring at the knight and feeling cold spreading inside her stomach…

… _**You're the one who will destroy Ember…**_

"Yes," she nodded slowly.

_No…_

"All its inhabitants are killed…"

…_No…__ no…_

"…The village itself burnt to the ground…"

…_n__onononono…_

"…and Luskan accused you of the crime."

_**...The killer looks like you, but isn't...**_

"You are joking," she muttered, still looking at Nevalle, then finally sat on the chair. "You are not."

The knight gave his head a grim shake: "I've scraped things off my boot that I trust and respect more than Luskan," he said – almost hissed – disdainfully. "But this time, I'm afraid, their words have at least some truth to them. The village _is_ destroyed - our scouts confirmed. Your guilt in Luskan court is preordained."

"I bet," she answered absently, then shook her head. "It's impossible. Simply _impossible_. We've been to Ember several days ago, and everybody there was alive and fine. Then what, I returned and… killed everybody? Is that what happened? Oh, and there just appeared some peaceful Luskan patrol to come along, they saw me – but didn't try to stop and simply reported about it?" she looked up at Nevalle again, but the only response she got was Bishop's snort from the counter.

"The accusation is real enough," Nevalle finally answered. "And unless we find some means of clearing you of these charges, we will have to surrender you to them. We've signed a treaty with Luskan – they have the right to dispense Low Justice for the crimes committed on their soil."

"…Have the right, huh," she repeated. _Sucks for you, Delly. Suuuuucks_.

"If you were you a lord, knight or even a squire, however," Nevalle continued talking, and Adele cocked her head slightly, having a feeling that he was meaning more than saying, "then matters would be different. You would be a subject to High Justice, and your trial would take place here, in Neverwinter, before Lord Nasher."

"…If."

Nevalle nodded, probably content with her reaction, that she got his meaning: "I am not turning over a loyal member of the Watch to some Luskan dog on this day or any other. So I may send a… friend of mine to assist you – he has proven invaluable in such cases in the past. But until you answer for these charges, the gates of the city will be barred to you. That is all, lieutenant."

He turned on his heels, leaving the tavern. Adele didn't move, staring at the empty spot on the floor he had been standing on and trying hard to convince herself that for all the absurdity of what was happening – it _was_ happening after all.

"Garius," she suddenly hissed. "Shoot me if it's not his handiwork."

"No way in the Hells will I let those Luskans get their hands on you!" Duncan snapped.

"But there's still something we can do, right?" Shandra almost jumped to her feet. "Even Nevalle said as much – you need to get into nobility!" she broke off, then fell back on the couch. "But how do we do that?"

"And we are innocent, besides," Neeshka added, her voice as bewildered as Adele herself felt, like the tiefling was also having hard time finding some sense in what was going on. "I mean - the slaughter of an entire village? That's going too far, even by Luskan standards!"

"Is it?" Bishop sniffed. "If you have something Luskan wants, they'd kill an entire _city_ for it. They don't care."

With a faint groan Adele bent down on her chair, hiding her face in her knees, loosening her hair from the tail and tousling it forward so that it curtained her from the outside world. Others kept on arguing about something but she paid little attention to that.

_So Luskans come here - I just pretend that I'm dead already. Wonder how they would check__ if it's true… Crap, don't really want to know that much._

"Uh, Duncan?" she heard Sal's voice. "Looks like we have a guest."

The half-elf let out an exasperated sigh: "As if the day couldn't get any worse… What do you want, Sand?!"

Adele lifted her head a bit, looking at the front doors. Indeed, it was Sand. Elf's face was impervious and motionless, a sharp contrast to his usual slightly ironic expression.

"I am here to help you… and your… kin, actually," his gaze moved to Adele, and she smiled at him through the veil of her hair. Sand's perfectly-shaped eyebrow jerked vaguely, as if he was considering whether she needed help from mental disorder more than from Luskan.

_A _friend_ of Nevalle? A friend of _Nevalle_? Sand? Pinch me._

"Oh, really?" Duncan snorted, all his nervousness and irritation obviously finding a perfect target in Sand. "And what's the price? If it's more than a half-copper, you can see yourself out."

"No, I… seem to have been given an ultimatum, in fact," the wizard admitted, almost helplessly, and Adele winced, straightening on her chair. _Blackmailed. Another person is blackmailed into helping me. Damn, I'm not liking it at all, in case someone's interested. _Sand looked at her, ignoring Duncan even if the half-elf wanted to say something else: "I have heard of your… troubles with Luskan."

"Is there anybody who hadn't?" she smirked.

"I realize my sincerity hard to believe, but allow me to act on your behalf. I have considerable experience with these matters," a common barely visible smile at last came back to his lips, as he added: "And foiling Luskan plots is something I relish."

Adele smiled back at him in understanding. _Looking at the bright side, don't you, Sand?_ _Trying to get the best of the worst situation._

"I think we should give him the chance," said Casavir, and Adele did her best not to stare at him unbelievingly. _When did I say I _won't_ give him the chance?_ "This is not a battle that can be won by swords – and I for one am ill-equipped for such a fight."

"Sure," Qara nodded and grinned, sweeping off the crumbs from the nearest table with a rag. "After all, a hedge wizard can't make things any worse. Maybe all that digging through books might prove useful."

Sand leveled a heavy sullen glance at her: "If we fail and the only thing left for us to do would be burning down Luskan – we shall, no doubts, seek you, Qara. But for now your ignorance will cause more damage here than you know. Luskan is not ruled by men - it is ruled by magic, by the Masters of the Towers. And if they have decided that you are to be delivered to them…"

"So?" the sorceress snorted and easily tossed the rag into the air, where it disappeared in a tiny blaze of fire. "Let them try."

The wizard watched the ashes of the rag as they slowly glided down on the table, then rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed: "Whatever _spark_ of magic you think you have, you idiot _girl_, they will bleed it out from you with demon, spell and curse until even your father won't be able to save you. Believe _me_," he shifted his gaze back to Adele. "And I have a suspicion that for whatever reason they had accused you of this murder – that reason, as well as consequences, lie much deeper than it may seem."

"…So what's the plan, then?" Adele asked.

Sand folded his arms, hiding the hands inside the sleeves of his robe, pacing around the room: "For now the main focus is to prevent your surrender to Luskan. Fortunately, making you a squire is enough for our needs."

"Easy to say."

"Actually, not that hard, indeed. Nevalle made it quite clear to me that Nasher will close his eyes at the fact how quickly and conveniently you become one. So our largest concern is to find a knight who would agree to play along."

"There are few people left in Neverwinter whom I can call 'friends'," Casavir said thoughtfully, "but, perhaps, I would be able to find the right man."

"We'll ransack this whole city," Neeshka added, "but we'll find a knight. I mean, there's a whole pile of them here, anyway!"

"That'll do, I'm sure," Sand nodded, proceeding with measured circling around the room.

Following him with her eyes Adele noticed Elanee entering the room, drawn by the voices, her brows rising a little at the sight of the gathered crowd. Khelgar started explaining her the situation, and the druidess froze in her place, not saying anything, but her face growing more and more pale with every word of the dwarf. As their eyes met, Adele shrugged with an apologetic smile, then turned back to Sand.

"Making you a squire will also give us what we need most – time," he continued. "Time that we need to gather enough evidence to bleach you out to diamond shine on the trial. But for now let us deal with what we can," the wizard looked at Casavir. "I believe there is someone we can speak with on the matter?"

The paladin nodded and rose from his place, gesturing for the elf to follow. Neeshka also rushed to the doors, shouting: "Get moving, Khelgar!"

"Where?" the dwarf blinked.

"To help drag the knight if he'll jib!"

"Ah! That I can."

Sand stopped in the doorway, pointing his finger at Adele: "As for you, my dear – stay here for now. The less attention you attract to yourself – the better."

"Fine," she smiled and sighed. "Not that it helps most of the time."

As the four of them left, silence imposed over the place.

"…So…" Shandra cleared her throat. "And what are we going to do?"

"Wait," Adele replied.

"And that's it?!"

"Yes," she shrugged, looking at her. "Well, we can also come back to training, if you feel like it."

"I… no… How…? How can you be so calm about it?! That Low Justice in Luskan, it's… well, it's a really bad thing!" she frowned. "Though even it is not enough for the one who… who did something like that…" she dropped her face into her palms. "I can't believe everyone in Ember is dead… Just… dead."

"Have you known many people there?" Adele asked softly.

"Well… yeah. I traveled there last season… The quartermaster was always kind to me… Funny old man he is… was," she fell silent and when she spoke again, her voice was different, lower and weaker: "And Alaine… I've always stayed at her place when the roads were washed and I couldn't get to Port Llast…" she closed her eyes for a second, then rose from her place abruptly, blinking furiously. "I… I need to… change my clothes, so… I'll go..."

"Of course," Adele nodded with a faint understanding smile.

Taking a few steps towards the corridor, Shandra tarried, looking back at her: "Still, I don't get… I mean, aren't you even a little worried?"

"I am. But this whole thing is ridiculous. I'm innocent. And Luskans will have to sweat much to prove otherwise, that's for sure."

Shandra looked like she wanted to say something, but either didn't find what to say or decided not to, and just left the room, shaking her head. After a second of hesitation, Elanee nodded to Adele and followed her, making the woman inwardly thank the gods that the druidess was along – always calm and ready to comfort. Leaving her chair, she strolled through the room, until finally made her way to the counter. Duncan, probably also getting more nerves than he could handle, disappeared somewhere in the kitchen, so Adele simply nodded to Sal for wine, leaning her back against the counter and placing her elbows on it. Bishop, sitting not far from her, was sipping his ale as slowly and indifferently as always, but, maybe, for the first time Adele was glad of his 'don't-give-a-damn' attitude.

"At least someone is not in shock," she muttered.

The ranger let out a short chuckle: "From what?"

"Well, from this whole… nonsense, this… trial."

"What, did you really think Luskans won't get to you for killing their agents on the ship?" she shot him a puzzled glance, not really positive she ever mentioned her earlier encounters with Luskans to him, and Bishop nodded: "Yeah, Duncan told me about that, too."

The woman hummed, taking a glass from Sal: "Duncan likes to talk, I see."

"Duncan sure does. Not one for keeping secrets," he smirked wryly, staring into space, "but he's always quick to call a debt when he wants to."

Taking a swig at the glass, she licked her lips and looked down at the ranger: "So, any thoughts about this all?"

He eyed her closely before answering: "Are you seriously asking or just making conversation?"

"…What do you mean?"

He settled back on the barstool, folding his arms and keeping his eyes glued to her: "Well, it just seems to me that such a fine upstanding lady like yourself might not be _really_ interested in an advice of someone like me in the matter," he quirked an eyebrow slightly. "And trust me, I'll respect you a lot more if you admit it now, than hear my advice and make those scary huge indignant eyes of yours."

"Trust _me_, my eyes are already too tired of becoming huge," Adele pressed cool glass to her temple, feeling a headache starting to tingle deep in her scull. "Besides, hearing advice out doesn't mean following it. Considering – yes, but blindly following… it would've been stupid of me, wouldn't it?"

"…True enough," he smirked. "I'm not one for following what everyone tells me, either." Bottoming his mug, he pushed it to Sal for re-fill and shrugged: "I think you should skip this whole trial bullshit and just try and kill the Ambassador."

Adele blinked in surprise, then laughed: "Simple, clear and to the point."

"You asked. Besides, what a nice way to show them what you think of justice."

"Honestly, right now I don't think _anything_ about justice, but… your variant is eloquent and ironic, can't argue."

"And that's the only language Luskan understands, anyway," he was silent for some time, then leaned his elbow on the counter, scratching his chin thoughtfully: "Then again, if you don't want to waste time in court, you could just run away." She glanced at him questioningly and rolled her eyes, shoving across a familiar skin-palpable stare that left a feeling of a string being drawn inside of her. Bishop grinned significantly to emphasize the meaning: "I could have led you out of the city, and you and I could find some hidden place somewhere and… camp for a year or two."

"I'm afraid I'm not drunk enough and too accused of mass-murder for camping right now, sorry," she clinked her glass against his mug and smiled. "But you can go and scout the way – I'll catch up in a year… or two."

He chuckled again, lifting the mug and saluting her with it: "Don't think the thought hasn't crossed _my_ mind. So don't be surprised if the next time you turn around – I'm gone. After all, it's your life at stake, not mine. And you and the gallows are about to become very close friends unless you do something about it."

"…And that is exactly why I asked for some advice, in case you didn't get that," with a heavy sigh Adele tousled her hair again and tied it back into a high tail.

"Then, I guess, you can just follow the procedures and find proof to their claims. Though it's only worth it if you can hurt Luskan in the process."

She cast him a sidelong look: "…What, foiling Luskan plots is something _you_ also relish?"

"More like foiling Luskans themselves."

"Personal?"

He flinched, as if they were talking about some kind of skin desease: "In a way."

"…I see. Well, cheers again," she drank up what was left of the wine in her glass and pushed herself off the counter. "Good to know I'm not the only one."

* * *

…The hours crawled grievously slowly. Along toward evening the tavern began to fill up with visitors, but even common uproar from the patrons seemed to sound somewhere far away, not reaching into a cocoon of strained silence that hang over the room and their company. All Adele could do was stride from corner to corner, from wall to wall, inwardly counting her long rhythmic strides and feeling herself a rat closed in a labyrinth and running there in search of cheese. Every time the front door opened she tossed her head, torn between hope that it were others coming back and fright that it were Luskans coming to get her. Elanee, sitting on the couch, followed her every move with a sad sympathetic look and, as Adele glanced at her, gave her a soft encouraging smile.

Shandra seemed to be most nervous, at one moment dropping herself into the nearest armchair, at another rising to her feet and also starting to walk but and ben, binding her fingers together so tightly that they were probably close to breaking. Not that it surprised Adele – Shandra was not one for keeping cool and holding her emotions. Besides, she clearly took what happened at Ember as something personal. Adele wanted to calm her somehow, but understood all too well that it was impossible in Bishop's presence - the ranger didn't hide his belief that the villagers had something like that coming anyway.

Just like he foretold, in fact.

Qara was calm. Apparently, her assurance that if things get too rough they could always burn Luskan down was utter. Duncan, forced to greet and attend to his customers, constantly plied between two halls, trying to attach cheerful expression to his face, but not doing good in that. Even Grobnar kept quiet, fingering the strings of his lute without making any sound. Though Adele wasn't sure if the gnome understood what was going on – he always had some kind of sixth sense on others mood…

"Found!" Neeshka yelped, bursting into the tavern from the street and hopping towards Adele. "Dance, Del – we've found you a knight!"

"Not 'we', to be frank," Sand clarified, following her. "The City Watch was of help here. Seems your service to them_ is_ appreciated."

"And who's the lucky guy?" the woman wondered, not bothering to hide her relief.

"Ya sure ya wanna be choosy now, lass?" Khelgar chuckled, his reddened face also appearing less troubled.

"Sir Grayson," Casavir answered for them. "I fought side by side with him during Luskan war – he is a decent man and ready to help you in your need."

"Well, that's good," Adele nodded, again not sure whether Casavir's seriousness and carefulness about everything helped things or not. "Don't worry, I'll try not to do anything that might harm his reputation."

The face of the paladin mirrored genuine surprise: "That never even came to my mind, I assure you."

Adele smiled: "…Yeah, I guess. So," she looked at Sand, "to the Watch it is, then?"

"Absolutely, my dear. We polish _that_ off – and tomorrow will be in position to tackle the matter of the trial itself in real earnest."

She nodded, heading to the doors, but stopped: "Wait. And what do squires even _do_?"

Casavir wanted to answer, but before he could Sand tapped his finger at Adele's shoulder in a gentle but strangely persistent way: "What matters now, is that they are not sent to Luskan for trial."

"…Good point."


	18. XVIII: Live Bait

**XVIII**: Live Bait

_So _that_ is what squires do. They smile and nod, smile and nod, smile and nod… Crap, I feel myself Grobnar._

At this thought she instinctively fingered a large saddle-bag. The bag responded with a slight stir. She glanced at the knight riding side by side with her, but he didn't seem to notice anything.

It was getting dark and the sky got sprinkled with first stars when Adele and Grayson made their way down a hill, overgrown with grass, already withering away under pressure of autumn, and rare trees. Here, outside Neverwinter walls, was no city noise, no merchants were yelling, no citizens chatting, only somewhere in the distance Adele heard the chirr – grasshoppers or balm-crickets, she couldn't tell for certain.

It had taken her a great deal to get used to the thought that she was a lieutenant – so now Adele was wondering absentmindedly how much time would it take to get used to the thought that she was a _squire_. The fact that – again - it took no pains for her to become one didn't help the matter in the slightest. More and more often the woman was under the impression that she could actually just sit on the floor and do nothing – and the events would still happen, whirl around her, like she was an eye of a storm.

Grayson didn't improve the situation much. Though he was a pleasant man, polite and calm, Adele couldn't shook off the feeling that he also felt a bit perplexed about the whole situation – her 'unique circumstances' as he had put it. Not that Adele could blame him – obviously, any knight usually spent at least some time watching and getting acquainted with the person he intended to take as his squire, making certain of his or her conviction and abilities. But in her situation Grayson had to settle with what he was _told_ about her – by her Watch commands and Nevalle, rumors about her activity in the city, perhaps had a word or two with Casavir also – and after a ridiculously short filling in on the subject of 'knighthood' (during which Adele felt that she had overfulfilled her rate of smiling and nodding for years to come) they headed to Solace Glade for Adele to take vigil. The vigil was the only piece of at least some tribute to traditions – without it the whole squire-thing would have seemed to her a complete and utter farce.

On a clearing, hidden from the wind behind a couple of trees growing tightly together, Adele found a place for a fire, neatly enclosed with small stones, a cord of dry wood not far from it. The woman looked wonderingly at Grayson, and the knight nodded: "Yes, this is Solace Glade. Many generations of squires and knights touched this sacred ground," some nostalgic and awed notes rang in his voice, as he was, perhaps, remembering his own vigil. "Do not be surprised – this place always awaits for the next defender of Neverwinter to come."

She looked around, inwardly guessing how many vigils and prayers these trees must have witnessed – and feeling faintly guilty that she saw less of a 'sacred place' and more of a plain glade with too good possibilities for survey, where she would have to spend a night all alone. Caught in her thoughts, Adele didn't even notice at once that Grayson had already dismounted from his horse and was patiently waiting for her to take his hand and also get to the ground.

"Oh…" she smiled at him and took the offered hand, sliding down. "Thank you."

"I shall leave you to your thoughts and contemplations now," he took a step back to his horse with a graceful and, most likely, long-ago polished bow. "Pray to the god whose path you follow or think of what is to come in your life – the choice is yours."

_Is__ it?_

"Alright," she thought for a second, then looked at him with her best 'confused little girl' air: "Would it be very bad if I fall asleep… accidentally?"

Grayson chuckled: "I doubt you would be the first. But I would be disappointed in you."

"…I see. Well then," she smiled again, tying her horse to one of the trees and patting its nape when the animal switched to nibbling grass, "I'll do my best not to." With that she also bowed.

…_Or the ladies should curtsey?__ Damn, with all this noble thing I've definitely took a much larger bite than I can chew. _

She followed him with her eyes as the horseman dissolved into twilight, and hastily dashed back towards her saddle-bag, almost tearing it open.

"You in one piece?" she asked, helping Grobnar to get out.

"Why, but of course, miss Adele!" the gnome jumped down on the ground and beamed. "In one whole piece of gnome's meat, as sir Bishop puts it. That was quite a ride, I must say! I counted twenty seven hummocks – need to remember that it's exactly the number it takes to get from 'Sunken Flagon' to Solace Glade. Well, and back, too."

She examined him closely, making sure that the gnome indeed wasn't harmed, while he poked his head back into the bag, rooting around it, and finally got out with a sheaf of metal pikes and a skein of some strings.

"I am ready," he exclaimed, taking all his baggage underarm and looking around anxiously, then again grinned at the woman.

"Start over there, I think," she pointed at the space between the trees away from the camp and followed the gnome as he immediately paced there in vigorous steps. "So, you'll make it work?"

"Certainly! Don't you worry, miss Adele – everything that is grabbed by Gnomehands is bound to work… one way or another. Miss Neeshka instructed me very thoroughly about these particular traps, and sir Khelgar warned me that he'll tie my arms around my neck in case something goes wrong, so I must say it appears to be in my own best interests. Though, of course, I know a joke when I hear one… well, most of the time."

He piled his load in the grass, reached for his pocket, fishing out a small stone, dull and gauzy like a piece of glass, rubbed it against his sleeve, whispered some words – and the stone flashed out with light, casting reflections on Grobnar's face and diluting darkness a little. The woman smirked: "Handy."

"This one is tiny," Grobnar explained, adjusting the stone to the buckle of his leathers, and sighed dreamily. "I used to have an incredibly large Glowstone once, you know – but it left me. Or I left it somewhere?" he fell silent, recollecting, then his gaze dropped on the ground, pieces of traps still lying there, and the gnome blinked, stooping down: "Oh, yes, need to hurry, need to hurry."

Adele left him to setting traps and went back to the fireplace, gathering some dry twigs for kindling on her way. Behind her back snapped a crack of electricity, and the woman turn round quickly, but Grobnar just shook his burned fingers and grinned at her, then got back to spanning pieces of the trap. With a chuckle she continued preparing the fire.

All the idea of trapping Solace Glade might have looked crazy at best – or, she couldn't stifle the thought, even blasphemous at worst – but she was definitely in no position at the moment to play good squire and just sit around and contemplate her future responsibilities to Neverwinter. They would come without contemplating, of that she was sure. To serve and protect. Pretty much what she was doing for the Watch all the time, only, perhaps, on a larger scale.

_Yeah… And somehow 'serving and protecting' always ends up in killing somebody. Kill to serve, kill to protect, kill to be good and useful. __Oh, no-no, right, it's not 'killing', it's 'eliminating potential threat' or 'upholding order' or something like that… until you are ankle-deep in blood._

She sighed in her mind and cast one more quick look at Grobnar, his figure haloed in the thickening darkness by the light of his magical stone. Well, that was exactly why she decided that it would be a nice idea to trap Solace Glade – because she had a feeling that Luskans wouldn't let her slip between their fingers and would do their best to 'eliminate a threat', especially when knightly customs of Neverwinter gave them such an opportunity to get to her without witnesses. She had no doubts that Luskans were already aware of her becoming a squire – just like they were aware of her traveling through Ember.

_And we shall omit the fact that the mere thought of me being a threat to Luskan is ridiculous__… Or is it not about whole Luskan, Master Garius?_

"All done!" Grobnar's voice snatched her out of her thoughts, as the gnome came up to her with a broad proud smile on his face. Adele stood up from the fire, looking in the direction he began pointing. "The traps are set there… and there… and there also… and I've stretch one over there… and over there I found a mushroom."

"…Huh?" she stared at him, noticing that he was actually holding out something to her.

"A mushroom. Don't worry, it's a cep, it's edible, just need to roast it. Here," he placed the mushroom into her hand. "And I'll be going. But, please, bear in mind, miss Adele, that I am expecting to hear all about your vigil in the morning! Especially if you happen to meet with an incarnation of a god – it is not a rare thing during vigils, so I heard."

…_Uh-huh… I am not really sure what would be more nerve-wrecking for me now – Luskan assassin or incarnation of a god._

"Wait!" she called out for Grobnar, who had already headed away in his usual skipping steps, like he was dancing to some melody in his head. The gnome turned on his heels to face her, not slowering his pace and walking with his back to front. "And how do I disarm those traps when I need?"

"Oh, just throw something in there, and it'll do," he grinned. "But I would keep the distance at that moment if I were you!"

"…Alright. Thanks. You sure you'll find your way back?"

"My, of course! Twenty-seven hummocks, I remember!"

And he disappeared behind a hill, leaving her standing near the fire with a mushroom in her hand. Adele looked at the cep for several seconds, then shook her head and, without giving any thought, shoved it into her pocket.

_Can this whole situation become even more absurd?_

She came up to the horse, which had already finished off all the grass within reach and lazily dropped itself on the ground. The horse was the same she had taken from the Watch stables going to Old Owl Well, and Adele got quite attached to it during the travels, even thought out a name for it - Cherry - because of a small dark round spot on its croup. Somewhere in the saddle-bag was a blanket and some food…

Adele heard swift light footsteps behind her back and immediately reached for her weapon…

Grobnar smiled guiltily as he passed her: "Went the wrong way, so terribly sorry." Adele watched him as he jumped over the trapped area and dove into the night.

_No, it can't._

… When the cold autumn Northern night asserted itself completely, the woman settled against the firm warm side of the horse and pulled her legs out to the fire. Adele felt chilly, and a tempting thought of wrapping herself into a blanket and simply falling asleep started to haunt her hard.

_Real knights and squires must be _truly_ devoted guys._

She watched the sparks from the fire fly up, into the sky, joining the stars, the sight bringing back memories of West Harbour, her and Daeghun leaving for hunting in the Mere sometimes, spending nights like this, in the weather. Not that he ever _took_ her hunting – or even offered to – but once at the age of six or seven she had got tired of waiting for an invitation, simply packed her bag and followed him to the Mere by herself. When the elf noticed her trailing, he didn't object, didn't say anything, just waited for her to catch up – and since that day, after that mute permission of his, she was always accompanying him in his journeys. He taught her tracking, hunting, fighting, explained large and small peculiarities of being deep in the swamps, answered all the questions she asked – yet she felt like even being around her, helping her to her feet when she lied on the ground, gasping, breathless after another of their merciless sparrings, Daeghun was still somewhere miles away.

Adele closed her eyes, trying to cast aside thoughts about Daeghun. She didn't want thinking of him. Not after what Duncan had told her about Shayla and her mother. Didn't want to imagine how hard it must have been for the elf – for every time he looked at her he had seen the dead faces of the two women closest to him…

_I'm sorry, father… I simply didn't know._

She stood up, rubbed her face, stretched herself and walked around a bit, sometimes shaking one or the other asleep leg. Doing away with that, the woman searched through her pack and took out a flask of wine mixed with spices she had secretly swiped from the tavern in the evening. After all, the night _was_ cold, so any mean of getting warm was fine. Taking a few sips, she smirked.

_Definitely__ not a good squire so far…_

Half a flask later there were still no signs of disturbance she'd been expecting – instead the desire to sleep became stronger. Adele didn't even know what made her feel a complete idiot more – that she actually waited for Luskans to come for her tonight or that she had already got tipsy waiting for them.

Or even the sneaky feeling of being watched that she had.

Turning her back to the fire, Adele peered into the night, her vision gradually adjusting to darkness, but – no, nothing but hills, grass and sketches of trees. She glanced at Cherry. The animal merely glanced back, its side looking invitingly soft and warm.

_Oh well,_ - she came up to the horse and sat down on the grass, throwing the blanket back on her shoulders. – _Maybe I put too much importance into myself._ _After all, if they accused me of this murder – means they have at least some proof of my 'guilt'. Cooked up, of course, but still… So maybe they'll have some sense and prefer to deal with me in the courtroom, without adding more blood to their already blood-stained hands._

But while soothing herself with those thoughts, Adele untied the reins off the tree and winded it around her right hand. That way, even if she fell asleep, the horse would wake her up by rousing itself at someone's unexpected arrival. Even the slightest jerk of the animal's head would do the job.

Done with that, the woman reached for her pack again, found a somewhat rumpled apple, clutched it in her teeth, unsheathed her rapier and carefully stuck its point into the tip of her boot between the sole and the foot.

_That's how we, squires, amuse ourselves,_ - she bit off the apple and chewed slowly, stretching out her leg cautiously so that the blade kept balance, and placed it on the bended knee of another leg, daring to rock her foot a bit, the edge of the weapon glistering gold in the firelight. - _…Gods, what am I even doing here?_ _Trying to join the nobility of Neverwinter to get myself clean of charges of slaughter of a village… If anyone had told me about this half a year ago, I'd have probably laughed my head off._

Adele blinked slowly, shifting her gaze back to the fire, and the rapier fell on the ground. Picking it up, she shoved it back into the scabbard with a sigh. Perhaps she should pray after all. Not that she had much – _any_ – experience in that. Not that she even felt the need to pray… ever. She believed in gods, but always imagined them like some kind of a strange ill-assorted bunch somewhere far away, whose names fitted for cursing or praising very well. None of them seemed interested in her – and she was never really interested in them in return. Though Brother Merring told her about the Wall of Faithless once, scared the Hells out of her with "dissolving of the soul" – that conversation did nothing to increase her religious zeal. Worshipping someone just for the sake of not getting stuck into the Wall… Seemed that gods themselves were just as good at blackmailing and making deals as their mortal followers.

_What do people even ask of gods? Guidance, protection…?__ Need to ask Casavir later, _– finishing the apple, she threw the core into the fire and closed her eyes, leaning back on the horse, its side rising and falling in regular rhythm of breathing. – _Yeah, never prayed in my life, but got into trouble and started to… Wouldn't it make a wonderful scared hypocrite of me?_

She supposed that opening her eyes would be a great idea – but the thought was the last, as cozy light-headed dream covered her…

* * *

She fell asleep. Stupid wench actually _fell asleep_!

Some part of Bishop wanted to laugh and simply leave, letting her foolishness to be her punishment. The other part suggested that he might just as well stay and watch. Not that he had any better plans for the night. At least, those plans no way included sitting around in the tavern, where the sharp-eared dissected every tiny detail about their trip through Ember…

…_former_ _Ember_.

He winced in disgust at the thought. It seemed he'd never stop wondering at how many useless idiots were in the world, who, getting into trouble, preferred to fall on their backs and simply throw in the towel, hoping for someone to come and save them. They had been lucky enough to get princess and her band to do all the work of getting rid of the gith before – but it appeared they never learnt the lesson. The lesson that Lady Luck was a fretful bitch with no habit of being nearby for long.

Who'd know better than him?

Bishop walked around one of the traps the gnome set, making sure not to let out any sound as he stepped into the camp. The horse shifted, catching sight of him, but Bishop managed in time to snatch at its ear, rubbing it softly to quell the animal's agitation, and glanced at the sleeping woman. She stirred, bungling herself more tightly in her blanket, like she was cold – but didn't wake up.

_Not smart, princess. Not smart at all._

Luskans would come for her – of that he had no doubts. Come obediently and gladly, well-trained drilled doggies they are, whipped up by mere will of their masters. That – and, maybe, expectations of a worthy tribute for the job.

_Then again, who wouldn't want to try?__ Especially when the target is so easy._

He sneered, slowly rounding the woman, and crouched in front of her, his gaze licking over her face. Her head was turned to the side, refined profile bathed in gleams of the fire that added colour to her unnatural lily-white skin, flawed with blots of sunburns on her cheeks. The girl _was_ pretty, he had to give her that. Elven blood had done its job, resulting in such a delicate porcelain dolly with big innocent eyes and capricious upper lip. Perfect brainless dolly.

Only it was exactly the 'dolly' who suggested setting traps around her camp. And when others questioned the possibility of it, knowing that she wasn't exactly an expert in such things, it was the 'dolly' again who came up with the idea of dragging the gnome with her in the saddle-bag. And now, the moment he almost started thinking she had more sense than any of her band, she just got drunk and fell asleep in the middle of her vigil.

Bishop couldn't figure out if she was really smart or plainly stupid. And that's what irked him - he always preferred to know exactly whom he is dealing with.

He leaned closer to her, creak of his leathers too quiet to wake her up – yet she frowned in her sleep as if aware of his presence, her fingers clasping her weapon for a moment before relaxing again, a sudden half-smile playing on her lips. Bishop grinned at her thin white neck, exposed conveniently by the undone collar of her jerkin.

Almost funny, how easy it could be to carve another smile right under her chin. But that meant playing into Luskan hands. And he was done with that long time ago.

_But not done with you, princess, _he tilted his head a little, nose almost brushing against her skin, eyes locked on her jugular vein, its steady throbbing unexpectedly hypnotizing. _Consider yourself lucky._

She reeked of the Mere. Under the sweet trace of wine and apple, faint spice and hazelnut of her sweat, heady tang of curried leather, it was there – cold smell of moss, damp stone, water, sourish mark of fog, ingrained deep into her skin and hair. He took a deep breath of her, liquor scent strong enough to make his mouth dry up in thirst – and wondered absently if her lips still tasted of it.

But before he could check that (…did he even want to, really?) from the distance came low howling, and he rose swiftly, again catching the ear of the horse to calm it down before the animal could wake the girl up and listening carefully.

_Here they are,_ - he smirked, again looking down at the woman, her face crossed by the shadow from his arm – and for a second thought about kicking her awake, but changed his mind quickly. - _After all,_ y_ou like 'live bait' yourself, princess_.

So Bishop simply stepped over her stretched legs and left the spotlit area, avoiding traps and guided by Karnwyr's distant chatoyant howl.

_Yes, boy, __we've got our hunting tonight._

He strode silently along the right side of the grove surrounding the glade, leaving the left one to the wolf, their scheme of driving superior forces in worked through long ago. Bishop spotted them without much difficulty, the campfire shining through the trees and underwood sending enough light for that – and casting enough shadow not to be seen in return. There were three of them - made him wonder whom exactly in Luskan the wench pissed off that much not only to raze out the whole village to frame her up, but to send _three_ assassins after her as well.

Two humans and a half-orc, he discerned them moving - and actually _heard_. Greens. Only one of them – the leader - was worth something. Maybe even a lot – judging by the way how confidently he held his blades and walked, making for the camp. _Too_ confidently, as far as Bishop was concerned.

_Hard like boiled eggs, aren't you?_ – the ranger leaned against the tree, motionless, blending with darkness, letting them pass by. - _Even the predator is always someone's prey._

He waited, knowing perfectly what Karnwyr would do – and, yes, a moment later came the rustling of a nearby bush, the wolf's fell flashed grey at the side, expectedly drawing attention of the assassins, and one of them, following a silent command of the leader, moved away to check, while others kept on towards the clearing. Bishop didn't move, following the back of the single assassin with his eyes as the latter was lured by Karnwyr, and ran his fingertips through the feathers of a prepared arrow. Simple arrow. Though he had several enchanted ones in the quiver, they never suited for a clear neat shot – that arcane rot only led to brains and blood splashed all around in a blaze of gaudy sparkles. Mages surely had a sick bent for making a show out of murdering.

He drew the bow-string, aiming at the retreating back, at the spot under the left shoulder-blade, his own pulse picking up speed, but never skipping, never breaking – and released an arrow.

Quiet whiz, soft hit, arrow-point piercing leathers, right in the place he aimed at, going between the ribs, spitting the heart at once. The sound of the body dropping to the ground was hushed by the grass.

_One done, two to go._

Bishop turned his attention to the remaining Luskans, who almost made it towards the camp. He felt Karnwyr by his side - the wolf noiselessly jumped over the corpse and loped to him, yellow eyes glittering with excitement as he also stared into the darkness, foretasting other preys – excitement that was so opposite to the animal's usual apathy that strangled and choked him within the four walls of the tavern… of Neverwinter. Something Bishop could understand all too well.

"Good boy," the ranger whispered, nocking the second arrow – but tarried, watching the assassins advancing one of the places where traps were set. Bishop readied his bow in advance, but was in no hurry to shoot – he was much more curious about whether the fools would fall for the trap and walk right into it.

A step, another one, then another one…

The leader suddenly froze, noticing something – a string or else – and Bishop clenched his teeth, baring them in a disappointed grin.

"Perceptive bastard," he breathed out soundlessly and let his arrow fly.

With a sappy crunch it hit square in the back of the head, making the human fall forward, into the trap – and Bishop had to squint when an outburst of electrical sparks tore the night apart, eliciting a sharp irritated growl form Karnwyr and a frightened neigh from the horse. The remaining half-orc backed off to avoid the crash – but the next moment lashed forward, through the remains of the trap and his former leader, both his blades at ready… but was met.

She was already on her feet, parrying the first lunge casually, effortlessly, almost playfully, with ease of years of practice, when body no longer needed any signals from the brain to defend itself. Bishop could lay a wager that some part of her was still sleeping, but that didn't prevent her from fighting, her blade drawing rapid circles and eights in the air, in time to beat off the attacks, the wench herself slowly stepping back – right towards the fire. But the moment Bishop decided that she was going to fry her sweet behind, she dove under the arm of the half-orc, shoved him in the back, pushing into the flames, and kicked hard at the embers, hurling them into his face – and before he could come round stabbed her rapier into his throat.

The hulk of his body sank into the scattered fire, and she was alone, panting, her shoulders dropped, hooded eyes blurry and darkened almost to black, loosened matted hair framing pale face…

No more colours. All white and black.

And then, slowly and leisurely, she smiled.

* * *

Adele took another deep breath, her mind gradually registering what was around her. Destroyed dying campfire. Cherry, stamping and pawing not far from her, tossing its mane uneasily. Grass smouldering from embers and sparks of the trap. A corpse of a half-orc assassin, lying flat on his stomach. Another one several feet from her.

They _did_ come for her. She was right.

_So you don't really have anything solid on me in your __accusations, do you?_ - she felt her lips stretch into a triumphant grin. – _Well, guys, now you've just gave yourself away completely._

Without much thinking Adele grabbed the body by the ankles, dragging it out of the fire. _My campfire turned into a funeral one,_ - she grinned again, left the corpse on the grass and switched to the second one, gotten by the electrical trap, and wrinkled her nose at the smell of ozone and burnt skin and hair. – _Spoiled such a nice Glade… _

_Am I actually trying to joke while pulling dead people around? Gods, I'm a sick person… - _she dropped the corpse and shoved her hair off her face with a heavy sigh, running her eyes over the bodies – and her gaze froze on the shaft of an arrow, protruding from the scull of one of the Luskans. Blinking several times to make sure her eyes weren't lying to her, Adele bent down and gave a flick on the arrow with her fingers to become completely certain of its reality.

_Don't remember Grobnar setting any arrow traps…_

Standing up straight, she frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, skimming over the Glade…

…but, of course, the snide voice came from behind her back: "Looking for more, princess?"

"Bishop," she muttered, then swung round. "Bishop?!"

The ranger smirked, sliding out of darkness into the circle of dim firelight: "And the lady wins the prize."

"What the Hells are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly realizing that her grip on the blade tightened, and almost forced herself to sheath it – as casually as she could.

"What do you think?" he snorted, following her rapier with his eyes, then stared back at the woman. "Went for a walk, got lost?"

"…Uh-huh… _Very_ funny."

"Just what I thought," he drawled, stooped down - and only then Adele saw that the ranger was actually dragging the _third_ body by the collar. Bishop flung it forward, leather-clad figure sliding readily on the grass with quiet rustling, and gestured jauntily at it: "Almost decided you'd over_sleep_ the whole fun."

She froze with her mouth slightly opened, her mind pondering over the humiliating fact of her falling asleep, more humiliating fact of someone being aware of that and a completely mortifying fact that Bishop of all people appeared to be that 'someone'. Suppressing the first childish urge to strike an offended pose and start proving something (_What exactly?_ – her inner voice sniffed), Adele just shrugged and pinned on a careless smile on her face, waving at the dead half-orc: "Well, I didn't in the end."

Bishop regarded her with a scoffing glance and turned away, coming up to the corpse he dragged with him. Using his distraction, Adele threw an accusing glare at her horse, but, again, Cherry merely looked back, no signs of guilt in its eyes.

"Might have woken me up, by the way," she pointed to Bishop.

"Yeah, might have," he nodded indifferently, placing his boot on the spine of the assassin for support and jerked his arrow free from his back.

"…But you didn't."

"I didn't," he echoed, studying the dagger he picked up form the body.

"And you forgot to tell why you are here."

"I didn't even mean to."

"Having fun at my expense?"

"Yeah," tucking the knife into his belt, he shot her his trade-mark sidelong fleeting gaze. "Done making an idiot out of yourself?"

"…Definitely," she admitted with a sigh, one more time becoming certain that arguing with Bishop was a lost case from the beginning. So instead she went to the body of the human with a pierced scull, bending over it, studying burnt lifeless face soiled with dirt and wisps of grass.

"_Solace_ Glade, huh?" she shook her head, raking through the assassin's equipment, not really sure what she was looking for – something to indicate that an assassin was an assassin, perhaps – until finally came along a ring on his middle-finger. Pulling it off, the woman tilted her head, turning the piece over in her hand. Some white metal, a strange signet, looking like a chain of fangs or spikes…

Fingers closed around her wrist, and Adele gave a slight start, not aware of Bishop's presence before it was too late. It was creepy, how silently the guy could move – and kill, judging by how he was able to bring down two men without disturbing her sleep. She turned her head to ask if he didn't mind leaving her arm _not_ broken, but the ranger simply twisted her hand in a way that allowed him to have a view of the ring. Studying the signet for some time, he hummed darkly, as if finally understanding something he wanted to.

"Looks familiar?" Adele wondered, and his narrowed eyes briefly flickered from the ring to her face, gaze cold, almost suspicious. She arched her brow silently at his stare.

"Circle of Blades," he finally answered, twisting her hand again, this time to show _her_ the ring, and Adele gritted her teeth not to hiss in irritation and pain. _Might have looked myself, ranger!_ "Assassin Guild of Luskan."

"A good one?"

"_Elite_," he held his tongue pressed to the palate on 'l' sound a bit more than was needed – and the word rolled out of his mouth with almost _tasteable_ disgust.

"Huh," Adele stared back at the ring. "Should I be flattered?"

"That's up to you."

She smirked, turning the ring over in her fingers once more, looked down at its dead owner, then back at Bishop. "You know, when you said that you shoot people with arrows in your spare time, I never thought you were _that_ serious."

"Like they _are_ people."

"…Anyway," her smirk turned into a smile, blebs of glee from being alive among the corpses of three murderers splitting in her veins – or it were traces of alcohol not yet vanished – but she no longer cared why or how Bishop got to the Glade. She was alive, her hapless killers – dead, and it was all that mattered. "Thank you."

A well-known 'almost-smiling' look, that Adele had already learnt to recognize as a sign of his genuine amusement, appeared on his face, seeming cast of bronze in the gleams of fire. Right then she definitely didn't like that expression. It reminded her that she was in the middle of Hells knew where. Alone. With Bishop. Who still held her wrist. Tightly. With that blasted expression on his face. Smiling. Certainly he _was_ smiling, grinning, sneering at her – just because that grin wasn't _seen_ didn't mean it wasn't there. It was. In his eyes. Eyes of almost the same colour as the fire behind him was.

Tips of his fingers brushed softly over the inner side of her wrist, just above the cuff of her sleeve, and he leaned a bit closer – just a bit, but all of a sudden Adele felt that her favourite leather jerkin was actually damnably _thin_. "Don't worry, you will," he purred, warmth of his whisper sliding along her neck, under the collar, across her shoulder and down, tying all her entrails into a stiff clew. A very, _very_ hot clew.

Adele unglued her momentarily fritted lips: "Will I?" she drawled coldly, angered by her own voice drifting deceitfully and her own body almost groaning about how _long_ it was since a man had touched it.

"Won't you?" he answered, his face just as deadpan and impassive – but his eyes switched from grinning to _laughing_.

With a slight move she slipped the assassin's ring onto her middle finger, shifted her hand in Bishop's grip so that the back of her palm faced him and slowly folded the fingers, leaving the crowned middle one stretched upwards with the sweetest smile she could muster. Bishop stared at her hand - and then, with a short emotionless chuckle, dropped her wrist and made a step back: "Nice."

"Ain't I always?" Adele cooed, not yet lowering her arm. "Now why don't you get out of here before the future squire got caught in _your_ company?"

"Anything my lady wants," he smirked, presenting her with a mock bow, and before she could answer brushed past her. A shadow, just as silent, flashed between the trees, and his wolf - whom Adele didn't even notice before - fell into steps of his master, both disappearing in the mist of approaching dawn.

Waiting for some time to be sure she was alone, Adele finally closed her eyes, letting out a long-suppressed moan, hollow and helpless, and shook herself violently, forcing her senses back to her. Taking a couple of deep breaths, the woman stared pointedly on the body at her feet.

…_I have three dead guys near me – and get all horny because of a bastard who's hobby is to get people killed. Okay, it's official – I _am_ a sick person._

She snorted, realizing that there was still an arrow sticking up in the head of the assassin, and pulled it out. Bishop always collected his arrows – which meant this one he left on purpose. After all, Bishop did _everything_ with purpose. Breaking the shaft against her knee, Adele threw it far into the grass. From her side came quiet crunch of Cherry's steps, and the woman gently but firmly pushed the animal's head away when it tried to poke its nose into her shoulder.

"Oh, I'm not talking to you, you _bad_ horse," Adele grumbled, stomping towards the half-orc's corpse, still determined to pile all bodies together for at least some order – but stopped, suddenly noticing what a ridiculously surprised expression froze on the face of the dead assassin, like he couldn't get how he ended up dead. Unable to hold back a snicker, she grabbed his legs again. "Well, you saw the rapier, right?" she wondered at him, dragging him towards his 'friends'. "What did you think, I clean my nails with it?"

By the time she got to disarming traps, the hill resounded with the clatter of horses' hoofs – and Grayson drew the reins, staring at the picture before his eyes.

"What happened here?!" he exclaimed.

"…Nothing," Adele threw a stone at the last trap and turned away from the sparkles.

"Nothing?" the knight jumped to the ground, still looking at the corpses: "But you were attacked, were you not?"

"Oh, _that_… Well, yes."

"Luskans," he concluded grimly.

"Yup," she nodded, shoving her hands into her breech-pockets casually – and pulled one out, finding something there. Glancing at a strange mass in her hand, she chuckled at recognizing, and looked up at the knight: "…Want a mushroom?"


	19. XIX: The Morning After

**XIX:** The Morning After

_**Inside the small square of Fort Locke a pile of buildings and fortifications somehow **__**managed to stick to each other – and all space left was taken by numerous hastily-put tents and sheds, where many quite pitiful-looking people took shelter. Refugees from nearby villages swarmed by bandits, they made fire right on the ground, paying little attention to the soldiers making their rounds through them occasionally. Well, Neeshka **_**paid**_** her attention. After all, to get saved from one group of 'law enforcers' and then be bound by another was a rather stupid way of spending an evening.**_

_**As night came, the Fort seemed to become even more crowded. Refugees and soldiers alike bunched around the fires, some - to cook their dinner on it, some – simply to keep themselves warm. Muffled voices sounded in the dark, scraps of conversations, but they were so hushed that allowed to hear rustling of wind in the hills…**_

…_**and the dwarf's shattering snores.**_

"_**Now I know where earthquakes come from," Neeshka muttered, stepping over Khelgar's sleeping form. The half-elf – Adele – laughed quietly at her words and nodded:**_

"_**Helps keeping away many monsters during camping."**_

"_**I'll bet," the tiefling snorted, settling on the matting near the fire not far from the woman, and tossed her an apple, which Adele caught with a bit surprised expression. "Have something sweet," Neeshka grinned.**_

"_**Thanks. Where'd you get it from?"**_

_**She shrugged with the looks she hoped were innocent enough. "Got treated… you know, for pretty horns."**_

"…_**Uh-huh."**_

"_**What? They **_**are**_** pretty!"**_

"_**No little children left without evening-meal?"**_

"_**Naw, never. I steal from the rich and give to the poor," she grinned again. "Poor **_**me**_**, mostly. But I'm giving up, honestly."**_

_**The woman smiled slightly, letting it slip that way. Neeshka felt relieved at that, being a bit edgy after Adele had a rather friendly meeting with **__**none other than Marshal Cormick from City Watch of Neverwinter. But, listening to their conversation from a safe distance, she calmed quickly, seeing that the meeting was indeed **_**friendly**_**– and, probably, wouldn't have been less friendly if the guy was from Shadow Thieves. "Old friend," Adele had explained with a casual shrug. "We came from the same swamp." That was fine by Neeshka. The dwarf and his suspicion of her was enough for the time – during their whole way to the Fort he'd been constantly looking back at the tiefling going next to him, like he was afraid she'd bite him in the ass.**_ _**Most folks were too touchy about their pockets in Neeshka's opinion - could have put something interesting there for a start.**_

_**It was a good thing that the dwarf seemed to let the half-elf make decisions, choosing to simply tag along with her. Made Neeshka wonder, but as far as she got the things correct, they'd been through a tough fight in**__**some inn in the Mere together. What was it about and with whom, was a question. A question even Khelgar had no answer to. She'd asked him, but he just shrugged and grumbled: "Some beasties. Go figure." She tried. At least, what business they could have in Neverwinter. "Family matter," the woman told her with the same shrug and the same light smile that made everything seem as trifling as she said. "Need to meet my uncle… well, actually, my foster father's half-brother whom I'd never even seen before. Some family, huh?" she added with a grin. **_

_**Maybe it was that grin. Or her whole 'nevermind' air. Or how simply she seemed to put up with Neeshka's planar heritage. How easily she handled people around, not ruffled even by that stuck-up turkey-cock commander Vallis (whom Neeshka felt like butting with her horns after a moment of conversation. Khelgar seemed to have the same wish, for that matter). Maybe that she saved her when most would have just passed by, without any wish to meddle with soldiers and some stinky half-demon. Or that 'half'-thing… half-demon, half-elf. Or, maybe, because the half-elf in question was just bloody appallingly nice. Whatever it was, the tiefling came to like her quickly… easily. An effortless non-biding feeling when you were simply glad that someone like that existed in the world.**_

_**It would be only in couple of tendays, after they'd meet the druid, Elanee, and cut their way through hordes of undead and bandits, when Neeshka would finally learn that Adele's homeplace was almost destroyed and the woman herself was hunted by those outerplane fanatics, githyanki - the news that would be the blow both for her and the dwarf, informed in the same casual smiling tone, with soft (but unarguable) brushing off any condolences or sympathy they tried to mumble… **_

_**It would be only in Highcliff, after they'd make a deal with the Lizardsfolk and, coming back, discover that shaky old man, the Elder, was not really fond of such a come-out, not trusting the lizards enough for a truce; only after Elanee would almost get a blister on her tongue explaining what reasonable creatures lizardmen were – only then Neeshka would find out how **_**not **_**nice Adele Farlong could be, beating the Hells (and an allowance for their ship to set sail) out of the man with merely a glare and several words in a voice capable of freezing a volcano. **_

_**It wouldn't matter already - by that time they'd be not Adele Farlong and Neeshka the tiefling, but Del and Neesh. And the first could turn out to be the Lady of the Nine Hells hunted by all the Faerun – the latter wouldn't mind a bit. **_

_**But for now, on a stuffy cold night in Fort Locke, there was only one thing that tugged at the tiefling the most. "Just curious," she said, looking at the woman, and Adele arched her eyebrow in silent wonder – an expression Neeshka would come to know very well. The tiefling stared pointedly at Adele's bizarre two-coloured hair tied into a thick tail high on the back of her head. "Dyed?" **_

_**Adele chuckled, the sound suggesting that Neeshka was hardly the first one to ask: "No, was born dead."**_

* * *

Neeshka placed her palm flat on the table, poking the tip of the dagger into the wood between her thumb and index finger, then between the index and the middle one, then moved it in-between the middle and the ring-finger, and on, and back the full circle… That was the trick – to hit the space between each two fingers, increasing speed of tucking without skewering your hand. She was good at that – though, surely, it took her much practice in the past years. But what a thief, especially a pickpocket, could hope for without sleight of hands and sharp reflexes?

_She'll be fine, she'll be fine,_- the tiefling repeated in her mind, an endless mantra for every hit of the knife, – _she'll be fine, she'll be fine, fine she'll be, be she'll fine…_

Feeling a gaze on herself, Neeshka stopped and lifted her head, staring back at Sand sitting across the table. The elf was looking at her intently, almost expectedly, and after Neeshka put a 'what?' face pointed at her dagger with his eyes, probably annoyed by the noise.

"If you don't mind," he said dryly. With a fake pout Neeshka threw the knife on the table, leaning back in her chair and catching her tail, twiddling it in her fingers. The wizard, making sure her nerves were going to work themselves out in a quiet way this time, went back to reading a thick journal he fetched from Grobnar where the gnome wrote all the notes about their journey. The gnome himself, sitting at Sand's side, was watching him carefully – not to miss any reaction on his writing.

"Just nervous," Neeshka murmured defensively. Smiling Lady knew, she _was_ nervous. So nervous that was tempted to steal something right on spot – simply for the sake of keeping herself occupied. But Grobnar had nothing special on him, apart from his usual completely worthless but, no doubts, very exciting rubbish - that she had checked already. And Sand probably kept his pockets magically sealed and charmed so that they'd bite her hand off.

With a sigh Neeshka looked at Qara coming from the counter with two ordered tankards for her and Khelgar – tankards that were far not the first ones. The girl's sleepy face kept such a fed-up expression, that the tiefling leaned away from the table in advance – so, as the sorceress jammed both tankards down, none of the splashed out ale reached her. Grobnar blinked confusedly. Sand managed in time to lift the book, looking at a thin stream of ale flowing to his side, then raised his stare at Qara, a stare that would have probably made flowers wither.

"Oh, sue me," the girl threw over her shoulder, retreating to the counter and elbowing at it lazily, presenting herself with another unplanned break in her work. Neeshka saw Duncan bark at her, but somehow mechanically, without much enthusiasm, too tired and concerned to bother, so Qara didn't even look at him and threw a piece of food to Tamin, who was running about the counter with the looks of doing something terribly important. Duncan, too, didn't pay attention that he was ignored and went back to talking to Casavir, who managed to keep his calmness and composure even despite a sleepless night.

Shandra slipped on the chair beside Neeshka, wrapping her hands tightly around the tankard that was meant for Khelgar. _Speaking of nervous…_- the tiefling watched the farmgirl take a large gulp from the tankard, and her tail briskly thumped against the chair-leg in annoyance. - _Stumpy, she drank your ale. Punch her, will you?_

She could almost feel Shandra's desire to ask Sand if he had learnt anything new – but the elf made it quite clear that being disrupted didn't help him. And what didn't help him didn't help Del as a result. Bloody smart excuse that was, Neeshka had to admit. Even got Duncan off his back.

Taking a sip from her own mug, Neeshka gazed at Elanee. The druidess occupied her usual armchair near the fireplace, her head on its high back, and it almost looked like she was simply having rest - but her hooded eyes were glazed over, as her mind was probing every little bird in the neighbourhood, every street cat, every damned tree – anything that could tell her where Adele was. They had hoped that the druidess would be able to watch her at Solace Glade as well – and she _tried_ - but as she explained, the city was deafening her senses, not allowing them to reach that far. That was the moment whet it took Casavir to prevent Shandra from going there. So again Neeshka became convinced that Del was a bit of a prophet when she had warned them in the evening to keep an eye on the farmgirl. Or, perhaps, she even had a suspicion that Neeshka herself actually thought about sneaking to the Glade.

Khelgar stomped into the tavern from the street, where he'd been marching up and down the terrace last time she saw him. "Dawnin'," he informed everybody in a tone that suggested he'd beat into pulp every Luskan, every Neverwinter knight and Grobnar with his 'oh-I-_know_-traps!' to the pile if Del won't appear in half an hour.

"Every morning," Neeshka grinned at him. When Del wasn't around, she seemed to be the only one trying to light up the situation somehow. Well, Grobnar too – but that was just natural, without any effort from him.

The dwarf huffed and tramped right up to the table, glaring at Sand. "So, wizard?" he demanded, always subtle like a mace. "Learnt anythin'?"

The elf let out the heaviest sigh Neeshka had ever heard. "_Much_," he confessed, peering at the monstrously small handwriting that littered the page.

Grobnar smiled proudly: "I keep the most careful and detailed record."

"…Believe me, I noticed."

"Ya don't dodge the question, sharp-wit," Khelgar grumbled. "Ol' dwarf be damned if there ain't anythin' in those papers of yers to help ar lass out."

"Hard to tell right now, before we actually started the investigation," the wizard replied, reading through the page once more. "I would prefer not to make any assumptions at all rather than appear wrong in future".

_Don't know, __sod off_, - Neeshka translated to herself and snorted quietly into her mug. Sand was surely good at waltzing around the issue and using ten words instead of one. Long and complicated words preferably.

"Though…" he frowned, a thin threadlike wrinkle appearing between his brows, and tapped his finger over the book. "I was wondering if some parts of this story really took place – or are just a product of… an overactive imagination of an author."

Neeshka snickered, while Grobnar was still smiling innocently, probably taking Sand's remark as a compliment.

"What parts 're ya talking 'bout?" Khelgar clarified.

"Yeah, ask the moss-breath," Neeshka put in, mostly by force of habit. "He doesn't have imagination at all." Khelgar kicked her under the table, she stuck her tongue out in response. Force of habit, again.

"Come on, guys, can't you be serious?" Shandra said, and Neeshka rolled her eyes, any kindle of good mood she started to have immediately doused.

Sand regarded them all with a long gaze, then smiled tightly as they returned their attention to him. "I meant the boy."

"The boy?" Shandra repeated in clear amazement.

"…Oh, that spooky kid at Ember, you mean?" Neeshka nodded. "Yeah, he was there… Freaked Del out, pissed Bishop off, took his knife and left," the tiefling scratched her ear uncomfortably. "Bloody Hells, I've just got that he had actually _said_ that Ember would be destroyed."

"Yes, _that_ is interesting," Sand nodded. "And might be of use."

"The boy? At Ember?" the blond woman darted her blank glance between them. "_Said_ it would be destroyed?"

"Yessssss," Neeshka hissed, doing her best to keep herself from snapping.

"But… why haven't you done anything?"

"Wh-?" she glared at Shandra. "Now _that_'s our fault too?! Oh, _wow_! You've outbested yourself!"

Her cheeks flushed slightly: "It's _not_ what I meant."

"Well, watch out what you _don't_ mean next time! Or someone may think that you mean it!" Neeshka abruptly turned back to Sand, who looked positively amused, and placed her elbows on the table with a tell-tale thump, hoping that the farmgirl would get the hint and leave it. _For Tymora's sake, she's annoying. Should have left her to the gith. They'd have let her go, anyway, the moment she opened her huge mouth and started complaining. _

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Gods," Shandra appeared deaf and dumb to hints, speaking in her favourite 'insulted in best feelings' tone, the one that the ranger was so good at mocking. Almost made Neeshka miss him. "But if that boy said…"

…_Argh, that does it! _"Yeah, we didn't listen. Were too busy saving your hide from the gith, forgive us."

Shandra gulped in the air, like she was punched in her stomach, but immediately narrowed her eyes to cover her lapse: "And for how long will you keep bringing _that_ up?"

"Oh, don't know… until the thought sink?"

"I said I'm grateful!"

"Yeah, and I can say I'm a celestial. That doesn't make me one, does it?"

Out of the corner of her eye Neeshka saw Casavir watching their argument, until he decided to try and calm both of them down – but before he even could start doing that, a heavy gauntleted fist slammed the table between them, making both women jump. "Break!" Khelgar barked, appearing awfully threatening for the one only a head taller than the table. Neeshka and Shandra exchanged quick glances and turned back to Sand, the elf's face a perfectly feigned mask of martyred patience.

"I'm sorry," Shandra muttered again, this time apologetically, and Neeshka couldn't help but roll her eyes once more, mimicking her expression at the ceiling. "So, um… what can we do?"

"Well, I suppose for _now_," the elf stated serenely, "you can sit altogether and wish very-very hard for our accusers to die."

"I do already," Neeshka shrugged.

Shandra pursed her lips sternly: "It's not funny, Sand."

"It's not," he agreed just as evenly. "But that is all _you_ can do, my dear. As for the matter of _case_… if the mysterious diviner survived… if there are _any _survivours, we should check for them in Port Llast, that is quite obvious," his tone became grim for a moment as he stared back into the book, "…before Luskans did that for us."

"Wish I could lay ma hands on those who did it…" Khelgar tightened his fist still lying on the table as if it was clutching the hilt of his axe. "Lass got her share of fightin' those bastards, that she did, but somethin' like this… Ya want somebody dead – ya go to him and deal! Not cowardly stickin' yer blade into innocent back just to put blame on another!"

"Ah, my friend, if Luskan always took the direct approach, it would have been so much simpler to stop them… and they never would have been the Luskan we know," Sand pointed, turning over the page. "And if Adele was mentioning a certain Black Garius for a reason…" he fell silent, shaking his head in a way that was supposed to mean everything else. Not that it _meant_ anything to Neeshka, but the wizard clearly thought it to be a waste of time and effort – explaining something he considered apparent.

"Well, maybe ta find the guy and have a good-ol' chat with him?"

"How?" Neeshka wondered.

"Whad'ya mean – 'how'?! How we chatted with Moire! Axe into scull – an' done, serves him right!"

"No, I mean - how to find?"

"…Don't know," Khelgar finally admitted with a disappointed grunt. "Should be some way!"

"Oh, there are _so_ many ways to find someone…" Grobnar gave voice, but the dwarf glared at him:

"Wanna tankard on yer head?!"

"…No, not really."

Shandra rubbed her face wearily, getting up from her place, threw a quick glance at Elanee, then shook her head, looking longingly into the window near the counter. "I should have come," she muttered.

_Blast it, now she buries her already!_

"Shandra," Casavir placed his palm over her shoulder. Unlike Sand, the paladin was splendid at 'one word', his velvet voice quiet yet unbending.

"Shandra – what?" the blond woman asked crossly **– **but then predictably gave up and melted down on the sofa under the pressure of his concerned eyes. Though, in this particular case, Neeshka couldn't blame her - for Casavir was out of his armor, in plain everyday clothes, all tall and broad-shouldered and handsome, Abyss take him. Sometimes Neeshka herself had to resist the urge to pinch him. What stopped her was the idea of an expression on his face if she had done that… and the image of her skin crawling off the fingers – which it surely would do.

"I'm just worried, that's all," Shandra's voice reached her, and Neeshka squeezed her hands on the mug tighter, the farmgirl giving words to her own thoughts really getting on her nerves.

"As we all," Casavir nodded. _Exactly_. _Not like you have a_ _sole right for that._ "But Sand is right, for now we have done what we could. And you know as well as I do that your training is not yet sufficient to face soldiers of Luskan. Adele has enough to worry about beside your – or anyone else – well-being. Please, do not make it harder for her than it already is."

"Means: don't make her save your hide _again_," Neeshka whispered into her ale, then raised voice: "She handled things worse than Luskans."

"I know!" Shandra exclaimed, obviously on edge, waving her arms helplessly. Sand closed his eyes for a moment with nearly pained look, as if he was having a severe headache, then opened them and stared into the book again with a slight shake of his head. "It's just… What was she expecting? Talked about Luskan assassins for the whole evening – and then smiled and left with the words 'see you in the morning, don't worry for me'. Just tell me she is insane – and I'll put up with it."

"She's not insane," Neeshka snapped, the knuckles of her fingers on the mug becoming white. "She's just _Del_. Put up with _that_."

Khelgar grinned knowingly at her irritation: "Keep yer temper, fiendlin'."

"What are you talking about? I'm the most patient tiefling on the face of Toril," Neeshka got to her feet. "And look who said it, anyway."

Walking through the common room, she fetched her throwing knives, aiming at the dartboard hanging on the wall – but had no time to throw a single one, as from the side came a loud crash when Qara accidentally pushed down a tray with glasses from the counter - and was now glaring at the crocks accusingly. Tamin, always sensing shit when it appeared, smartly sneaked under Qara's collar. Neeshka shot a glance at Duncan, who was apparently seething – poor Duncan had piles of troubles from their bunch as it was, and every tiny thing seemed to be another step towards the blow. But before the half-elf could bring Hells on his favourite waitress, Elanee suddenly shifted in her armchair, and all glances turned towards her.

"She is coming back," the druidess stated, her voice sounding deep, as if from somewhere within her throat.

"_Finally_," Sand stood up, closing the book. "Then I shall take my leave as well. I'm sure lord Nasher in boiling anticipation awaits for his newest squire."

"Thank the Gods," Duncan muttered, then looked back at Qara. "But don't think that'll save you from cleaning the mess!"

"Oh, I wouldn't even _dream_ of it," the sorceress filtered, grabbing the mop in the same warlike fashion she used to hold her staff: "Feet up everybody!"

Neeshka grinned, capering away from the devastating mop-attack, and settled back on her chair, grabbing the tankard again…

* * *

_No better way of uniting someone than against a common enemy, _- Adele concluded, when Torio Claven stormed out of the throne-room, her initial plan of taking Adele to Luskan's court failed miserably. It was then she noticed, that her face, as well as Sand's, Grayson's, Nasher's and Nevalle's – different as they were - appeared to have almost identical smug expressions.

But that feeling of unity was slowly dissolving, as she and Sand were followed through the corridors and halls of Castle Never to the exit. Followed by sir Nevalle, no less. For all this time he was instructing them what to do and where to go ("…what to wear?" Adele almost felt like asking) in order to find evidence needed for the trial. A bored look on Sand's face showed that sir Nevalle said nothing new – but the thing was that the knight was talking to _her_, not Sand. She couldn't help but be grated by the way he seemed to ignore the elf or take him as something granted, kind of a supplement he presented her with, nothing more. - _'A friend of mine', yeah, sure…_

Upon the whole everything went pleasingly well and quickly. If the word 'pleasingly' could even be used in the situation that included Torio Claven. Before meeting her, Adele had imagined Luskan Ambassador in many different ways – but the _dress_ ruined any impression she could have had from the woman. The strange construction of straps, treads, fur and fabric, that made poor attempts at covering Torio's notable forms (and they still did a great job of escaping through the cleavage), reminded her of big ham sausages in local butcher's shop, usually tied tightly with strings in the same fashion. Maybe it had some arousing effect on men, Adele couldn't say, but as long as _her_ perception went, she had just felt terribly hungry.

" – in Port Llast you will certainly be able to find someone who would lead you through Duskwood to Ember," Nevalle continued. _Oh, smart. Can almost see myself running around Port Llast and asking everyone if they could take me to the scene of mass-murder in Luskan grounds._ "Unfortunately, for now we cannot allow ourselves to provide you with a scout…"

"No need to," she smirked, almost on impulse. "We have a… man quite capable of doing what is needed." _…You just listen to me, how 'nobly' I sound._ _Hells, he's infectious_.

"Then that is out of the question," Nevalle nodded, probably content. "Once in Ember, have a good look around. Any evidence would prove useful. But that is up to Sand, he has a talent of noticing all discrepancies and oddities."

"Careful, sir Nevalle," the elf's voice was dry like paper. "Or I might not be able to restrain myself and start blushing from the compliments."

Leader of the Nine glanced at him coldly: "That's wasn't a compliment, Sand. Considering that whatever oddities appear, you always happen to be suspiciously around."

The wizard heaved an exaggerated sigh, still preferring to look into space rather than at his 'friend'. "Yes, I never gratified myself with thinking that you visit my shop so frequently solely for the sake of purchasing elixirs. Though that does not prevent you from using a personal discount."

Nevalle smiled just as dryly: "I see your transfer to the Docks hasn't improved your temperament, Sand."

"Worry not, I keep several hours a day in special reserve to ponder where my life made such a sharp and unfortunate turn," before the knight could answer, Sand markedly bowed his head. "But the situation does not dispose to that now, I'm afraid. I would have chosen to start saving lady Farlong from the gallows rather than be interrogated… again."

'Lady'_ Farlong? …Riiiiight, I'm a squire now, ain't I?_

"…Fair enough," Nevalle agreed as they reached the doors and also bowed at parting. "And we wish you luck in that."

With a smile that she hoped was polite Adele returned his bow and, as he left, looked at Sand. "…Ouch," she muttered sympathetically.

"The depth to which I sink…" he shook his head and opened the door, allowing a wedge of sunlight cut the floor.

Along with the light came sound – bustling of Blacklake District coming to life. But despite the noise, Adele felt almost relief as huge ornamental doors of Castle Never shut behind their backs, leaving her and Sand standing on an impressive marble staircase leading down. It was good being outside, without all the imposing walls and arches and windows and floors slabbed with polished stone that made every step echo, like she was a prancing horse. A very purebred horse, but a horse still.

_Hope you enjoy royal stables, Cherry… I surely don't._

She closed her eyes and threw her head back a little, breathing in the air with pleasure: "Freedom smells good."

Sand looked over the District, then glanced back at the woman: "As much as I hate ruining your exaltation, my dear, - but don't you think that you threw yourself in it before time?"

"Shhh… I'm enjoying the moment…" she whispered, took another breath and opened her eyes, giving her shoulders almost birdish ruffling jerk. "Alright, I'm back and completely at your disposal, my dear lawyer."

"Delighted," the elf gestured downwards. "Shall we proceed then, my dear client?"

"Of course," she started down the stairs, after a second of hesitation hearing the silk rustle of robes as Sand followed her. The streets began to crowd with first citizens; on the small square in front of the Academy the merchants were gathering, pitching their colourful tents. Adele had to admit, that after the cordoning off was no longer in place, with all the people outside, the District looked much more friendly and pleasant. It was so easy to forget, that miles away a tiny village lay in ruins, its inhabitants slaughtered… Too easy. "So, what is _our_ plan – away from knightly insistent suggestions?" she wondered, looking around and hoping that she seemed as calm and light as she wanted. "I mean, _after_ the Flagon."

"To put it short – we are indeed going to Port Llast, then to Ember. Then see what we find along the way, I think," Sand answered, also looking around – only not as obviously as she did. "I have dedicated the previous night to the _most_ informative acquaintance with the blotter of your fellow-companion bard – and must say that there _is_ what to look for."

"Grobnar gave you his records?" Adele arched her brow unbelievingly. "Damn, every time_ I_ try to get a look at them he screams that the book mustn't be seen until it's finished."

"…Well, to put you at ease, he made me solemnly swear that I won't tell anybody what is written… as if I ever be that ruthless," he elbowed his way through the crowd gathering around the herald to listen to the latest news. Thankfully, Adele didn't have much problems with drifting across the mob – people could still discern that the rag on her shoulders was actually a City Watch cloak.

Though her cloak was not the only one, as she noticed several more grey-and-white Watch patrols moving along the District. Seemed that Nasher had increased the forces, not really happy with his knights and squires being attacked in the middle of their vigils right under his nose. _But I'd've been much happier if that had happened _before_ the attack. Now looks more like shaking angry fists after the fight is already over_. At the thought Adele glanced down at Sand, his miniature slender figure hardly reaching her shoulder with the top of his head. He was busy with studying the assassin's ring she had given him before, and while his stare was locked on the ring, the retrospective look on his face showed that his mind was elsewhere, lightning-fast thoughts almost seen flashing in his eyes. Adele kept silent, allowing stream of his guesses course undisturbed in his mind, and occupied herself with making sure that they wouldn't crash into somebody in the street.

"What Luskans even wanted to accomplish with this attack?" Sand finally murmured, talking mostly to himself. "Taking chances? Really, as sloppy as it was… it surely doesn't look like Torio."

"Should it?" Adele wondered, though she also noticed how jumpy the Ambassador was during their brief meeting in the Castle. After all, Adele had nothing more to do there than to watch the actors of this small play – since her part was the only line 'Yes, I am a squire, my lord.'

"…Why doubts?" Sand's voice was absent, but his eyes travelled from the ring to the woman's face, studying it just as carefully. "Tell me, perhaps I can dispel or at least give some ground to your suspicions."

"…You sound like a priest suggesting a confession."

"My dear, you are accused of a crime that is more than serious – and I am charged with clearing you of it. For the time, I _am_ your priest, your closest friend and your walking conscience," she glanced at him, remembering all their previous encounters, half-words and questions hanging in the air – amusing as it was, Adele suspected that there came the time to pile out everything. Probably getting her thoughts, the Moon elf nodded. "And from my part I shall admit that, yes, I had my moments of dealing with the Arcane Brotherhood… Nothing I am proud of, yet still."

"Yeah, I figured that much…" she closed her eyes for a second. It's not like she was wary of Sand or anything, but she didn't like that her unwilling focus on Black Garius made her almost paranoid.

"There is something your personal biographer not aware of, right?" Sand concluded.

"…Yup. About the 'Sea Ghost'… There was a guy there, a wizard… he said a thing that doesn't sit well with me. Something like 'oh, you think Black Garius and Luskan are one and the same? He-he, they think so too, but he is not'," she licked her lips, staring back at Sand, whose expression changed from mildly curios to suddenly pleased. "And you can kill me, but I just can't imagine all the Hosttowers of the Arcane sitting and plotting how to get rid of poor wretched me. Though the thought is flattering, of course, but… I just can't. Sure, I had my striking moments with Luskans in the Docks, and sending assassins to sweep out a meddlesome lieutenant makes sense in light of it – but… slaughtering a whole village to frame me…?"

"Believe me, my dear, _your_ understanding of justified losses lies leagues away from that of someone as ambitious and driven as an Arcane Brother or Sister."

"I'm sure of that, but it's not about losses, it's about… trouble and time," she fell silent, startled by her own words. _Gods, had I just said that? Had I just called them 'losses' and 'trouble'?_

_Hells with it, _- the voice inside snarled. – _Are you getting out of a noose prepared for you or beat yourself for calling pig a pig. _

"…Yeah," she shook her head, stifling the thoughts, and tilted her head towards Sand, who was waiting for her to continue. "I mean, too much work and blood… _for what_? I'm no Arcane Sister, but if I was one – gods forbid – I would have chosen to simply teleport to my victim and deal with them…" she gave a grim chuckle. "Well, maybe, make them die in agony if I was in sadistic moods."

"You sound much like your dwarven friend," the wizard observed with detached ironic amusement.

"…And that's one of the reasons he _is_ my friend," Adele closed her eyes, all the revolting memories of graveyards in Fort Locke, mountain cave filled with desecrated bodies coming to her mind at once. "Hells, makes me even kind of _respect_ that mage who killed those nobles in Blacklake. Just went and killed, no one else hurt, no one else noticed."

"…and no one he intended to put blame on," Sand finished, raising his brows meaningfully, and Adele had to nod in agreement.

"Well, yes, that too, can't argue," she sighed. "But, come on, I don't think I spoiled Luskan's life that badly… then _why_?"

"Frankly, that is the question I keep asking myself," he agreed. "So far this whole plot seems too ill-conceived - a single stake at your possible surrender to Luskan appears almost… desperate and thought out at the double. And for all Luskan cruelty and dominating tendencies, they are not _that_ short-sighted as to endanger such a convenient truce with Neverwinter… so straightforwardly at least," crossing his arms on the chest, he slid his hands into the sleeves of his robe. Small thin smile together with his fine but a little sharpened features made him look like a fox that got access into hen-coop. "If Garius did this behind Luskan back… and involved an official Luskan Ambassador as well…"

"You think she works for _him_? Personally?"

Sand freed one hand to wave it dismissively: "Either way, it is _such_ an obvious skeleton falling out of the cupboard that I am not even too interested in who put it there," he rubbed the tip of his sharp nose thoughtfully. "I was wondering if, perhaps, this skeleton fell out with such a crash simply to distract attention from another one?"

"…Like, say, necromantic experiments on Neverwinter territory and supporting creepy Shadow cult?"

"…Go on," Sand drawled, and his icy-blue eyes glittered, almost a child who stuck his hand into a cookie-jar and realized there were not only cookies, but some candies and marmalade inside as well.

"Fort Locke, Highcliff, Old Owl Well and Neverwinter forest… all packed with some priests who seemed to get jollies from undead and something - don't know how even to put it – _shadowy_. And always it had something to do with Garius. Never heard any other name," she shrugged expressively. "That's my sick paranoid tale."

"I shall surprise you, my dear, but it appears not as paranoid as it may seem. To rise so high and so quickly demands a certain source of power, which Garius obviously did not have until recently," his gaze turned inwards again. "A Shadow cult… That gives a new dimension to Garius' plans."

"Let's get to some place where I can sit… and eat, maybe I'll remember something else," Adele shrugged, her own thoughts a bit of a chaos. "But, look, if Torio works with Garius and at the same time speaks and acts on behalf of Luskan as a whole city…"

"Yes, yes, exactly," his smile widened in satisfaction. "My dear, I think we have a grand chance of not only getting you out of this story clean and shining, but also making Luskan lose their face. And once without a face, they'll have no other choice but to hand Garius out to Neverwinter on a silver platter. Moreover, they would be _glad_ to do so," he was almost purring, and Adele couldn't help but smile in a little baffled way. _Gods, I surely want to have him among my _friends. Noticing the expression of her face, the elf made another non-committal gesture. "But all in appropriate time, of course."

"…Alright, have fun," she chuckled. "Like I said, I'm completely at your disposal." _…Bishop would have probably made an obscenity out of it_.

Caught in their conversation, both Adele and Sand missed their arrival in the Docks, until found themselves on the street that ran exactly between 'Sunken Flagon' and the wizard's shop. Noticing that finally, the elf came to a standstill, looked around and brought his palms together with a sharp clap, a perfect sound equivalent of a dot.

"Let's close the discussion for now," he suggested, turning back to the woman. "I'm sure you'll want to have some rest and… whatever." Somehow a tiny wrinkle on the bridge of his nose made Adele understand that, in Sand's opinion, she was desperate for a bath - or, at least, _should_ be. "Come by when you are ready, we have much to talk over."

"You mean, you're not coming in?" the woman nodded at the 'Flagon'.

"…My dear, have mercy."

Unable to suppress a grin, she watched him cross the street to the shop and disappear inside of his small secluded kingdom of inexhaustible magical riches and most peculiar alchemical scents. For the one with such keen sense of smell, it was a wonder the wizard hadn't sneezed himself to death in his shop yet. Still grinning, Adele headed to the tavern's entrance, though her grin didn't last for long - she had a whole common room of people waiting for her. Waiting and – she knew – ready-fitted to embark to Port Llast or wherever even right now.

To solve _her_ problems. To fight _her_ fight.

_Casavir surely is __coming – justice stuff, after all. Khelgar and Neeshka too, it's granted – they'll more likely take offence if I even try to hint they'd better stay. Shandra… Shandra's too determined to find those who are guilty, so… better and safer if she's somewhere in my sight. Qara won't stay in the 'Flagon' on her life as long as there's an excuse to leave. Grobnar… oh, Hells, let's be honest, he's more capable of handling himself than most _sane_ people I've met in my life. Elanee… Yeah, Elanee… she will come, without asking or saying, she just _will_. And Bishop… Bishop, Bishop, Bishop… _- she clenched her teeth. – _Damn, I need you, blasted ranger. _

…_Funny. Almost like he's the only one I _need, - Adele cast her eyes upwards, on the slice of sky above the tavern's roof, and squinted on the sun, nearly scowled, a humourless smile tickling her lips. – _Means I should be nice… And Bishop eats alive those who are nice to him. _

_Then eat him first. _

_If he says a word to anyone... I will._

_Oh, crap. Talking to myself again. Annoying habit, need to get rid of it. They say it's a_ _certain mark of a lonely person._

The woman dropped her eyes down… and froze in her tracks when the front door opened and a cascade of dirty water splashed her legs from knees to toes.

"…Beshaba loves me," she muttered, shaking her feet in turn, then looked at Qara, who stood up straight, emptying the rest of the bucket used for mopping the floor on the ground. "Thank you, no need to worry about shower anymore."

"Oh, it's you," Qara eyed unfortunate boots. "Watch your step."

"Nicely appropriate warning," Adele nodded, feeling another grin break on her lips. After a night of vigil, abortive assassination and the morning in the castle Qara's familiar haughty face seemed a face of an angel. The woman gestured between the bucket and the back-alley. "I think the postern door is meant for this."

The sorceress extended the bucket to her. "Volunteer?" Adele shook her head, and Qara snorted, "Yeah, didn't think so."

"I can't," the woman explained, straight-faced, "I'm a squire now. The title obliges."

The sorceress put her hands on her hips: "Squires are actually supposed to clean horses in knights' servitude."

"No!" Adele popped her eyes out on her in phony terror. "I _knew _there is a catch somewhere! But since you are so good in noble stuff, will you teach me to curtsey? Please?"

"I can't," the girl threw her own words back to her gleefully. "I'm a waitress now."

"Let's switch the roles, eh? I'll mop the floors, wash the dishes, and you'll become a lady. Title comes with a lump of broken sword in your ribs, Luskan grudge and soaked boots."

Qara pretended to think over, then flinched and waved her off, grabbing the bucket and turning back to the door. "Desperate for nobility they must be, making _you_ one," she added, and Adele barked a short laughter, following the girl into the 'Flagon':

"My thought exactly."

"Hey!" her words were cut short by Neeshka's happy yelp.

Adele backed off, throwing her hands in the air in front of her to prevent a whelm of welcomes and a hug from Neeshka and Khelgar that was surely to come - and would have just as surely knocked her back into the street. It didn't help, but, at least, she was dragged in, not out, into a warm cloud of faces, hands, words and questions.

_I'm home. _

Everyone was there, except - she noticed with relief - Bishop. She wasn't sure she could handle his presence at the moment.

"Alright, alright, let her breathe!" Duncan immediately stepped towards her, saving her mostly from the dwarf and the tiefling. "How did it go?"

"As great as it could be," she nodded. "Torio's sweating nervously, Nasher's happy like a little girl 'bout that – and I'm a squire and got a permission to leave the city. Oh, and I want a steak," she added, struck by memories of Ambassador's cleavage. "Large and juicy. Do I have a hope?"

"And the vigil? Were you - ?"

"Yeah, I was attacked, but it went well too. Three assassins less in the world," she said evasively. Now, at daylight, her blunder on the Glade with falling asleep seemed more of a thing to laugh at – but she had serious doubts that all of her companions would share that laugh if she told them. _Bishop would… and probably _will. She smiled at Grobnar. "Stumbled over traps, they did."

"Lucky ya, Grobby," Khelgar groused.

The gnome beamed: "I know."

"What about the squire?" Neeshka wondered. "Had at least a ceremony or something?"

"Nah-huh," Adele leaned her crossed arms on the high back of Elanee's chair, its position allowing her to have a full view of the whole band. "It was more like… Grayson: 'This woman is my squire', Torio: 'You don't have a squire', Nasher: 'Let's ask the squire. Squire, are you a squire?', me: 'Yes, my lord, I am a squire', Nasher: 'The squire says she is a squire – that means she is a squire'. And – bang - I _am_ a squire."

"And that's it? No fancy sword, no vowing?" the tiefling sounded almost offended.

"Nope. Then Nasher kicked me out with the words: 'Now clean your name, 'cause I'll have more duties for you in the future'," she grinned. "It's good to be needed." Neeshka winced, her lips clearly articulating 'bloodsuckers', but gave no voice to the word – Adele figured it was mostly because of Casavir not far from her.

"So when do we leave?" Shandra asked, surely ready to march at the moment.

"As soon as possible, I'd say," Adele assured her. _'We'_ – she repeated to herself Shandra's say. _– Indisputable 'we'. _"After I figure everything with Sand. Maybe even today, towards the evening," she looked over her friends. "Though I have a bad feeling that none of you slept tonight".

"You expected us to?" the blond woman seemed incredulous.

"Well… _yes_." _Why not,_ I_ slept._ "At least I hoped. Have quite a way ahead of us. Speaking of which," she raked her hand through her hair, "where's our ranger, by the way?"

"Who knows?" Neeshka snorted. "Anywhere. Left in the evening, never came back."

"…I see," Adele pursed her lips. "Well, have time to rest and prepare, then. And _eat_," she smiled at Duncan pleadingly. The half-elf looked around for Sal, but, finding none, waved Qara towards the kitchen for her to see that some meal was arranged. Adele did her best not to snicker as Qara left with the same jaded 'the-depth-to-which-I-sink' look Sand had at Castle Never. "Easy there, uncle," Adele teased. "Don't want our kindle to faint from exhaustion half-way."

"Don't count on that," Qara shouted from the kitchen, and the next moment something really heavy - and obviously breakable – met the floor. "Oh, _great_! Who put it here?!"

"Is she doing it on purpose?" Duncan wondered at no one in particular, seeming torn between going to the kitchen and a wish to stay and hear out everything Adele had to say.

"I shall see what is wrong," Elanee gave him a soft nod, making him stay, and shuffled towards the noise and Qara's curses.

Duncan grunted and shook his head. "I swear, this girl costs me more than all her work does. I sometimes feel like paying myself to get rid of her."

"No need to, I'll take her for free," Adele propped her head with her hand and smiled at others. "Okay, guys, you can stop watching me like I'm going to fall face down with a Luskan knife in my back and get your rest."

"We are -- " Shandra started, but Adele raised her brows:

"An order."

"But -- "

"We heard ya, lass," Khelgar rushed Shandra towards the doors leading to rooms. The woman looked like she wanted to object, but waved her hands in resignation and finally yielded. Neeshka followed, her face appearing almost gloating, but stopped in the door-way and leaned her shoulder on the post, probably also not wanting to miss anything. Regarding Adele with a long gaze from head to boots, she giggled and shook her head: "_Squire_, my tail."

"Do not mock, Neeshka," Casavir chided, and the tiefling feigned a pout, sticking her lower lip forward.

"Why can't she?" Adele smiled. "She's not in Neverwinter service."

"Such things should not be taken lightly," the paladin looked at Adele, his words clearly meant for her. "No matter the circumstances."

She didn't answer, looking at him in turn, understanding perfectly that he wanted her to realize her responsibility and everything – she couldn't blame him, really. It was something Casavir seemed to never be able to get – that she realized well, _too _well to her liking, what was going on. 'Serve Neverwinter – and it shall serve you,' Nasher said. Neat deal, she wouldn't have argued… if in front of her wasn't a man who, faithful and loyal as he was, preferred to stride all the way to Old Owl Well and deal with orcs by himself rather than trying to move Neverwinter to do it.

Casavir suddenly cleared his throat, and Adele blinked, back to reality again. "I did not mean to discourage you," he said, taking her thoughtful gaze as a sign of brought down spirit. "And there is no reason for you to be…"

"No, no, I'm fine," she smiled at him, "just tired also, so I… doze off a little. With the vigil and assassins and -- "

Something warm and soft brushed against her leg, and she lowered her gaze at Karnwyr who strolled past her. She didn't turn her head – and neither needed to, for she already knew that the ranger was somewhere behind her back. Adele started to seriously suspect that Bishop intentionally chose moments for his arrival.

"— and the rest," she finished in a different voice.

_And here comes my hero._

"What, our princess wore herself out?" Bishop drawled, also coming past her.

"A bit," she nodded, deciding it was better to stare at his shadow moving along the floor than at Bishop himself. The shadow, at least, couldn't stare back.

…_Should have known better, expecting to get away that eas__ily,_ - she scolded herself inwardly as he came up not to the counter, but to her, throwing his arm over her shoulders, and placed his hand on the back of the chair she was still leaning on, hanging over the woman. Strange, but apart from his usual scent of forest, earth and ale, he smelled of soap and… perfume? _Brothel, -_ it dawned upon her. _– Sweet. I get Nevalle as a morning company, and he – a merry whore and a pint of ale. Where's justice?_

"A surprise _you _didn't," Neeshka sniffed at Bishop. "Loafed somewhere for the whole night himself."

"Want me to tell you where?" the ranger wondered, and Adele could _hear_ that crooked smirk of his.

"We are _not_ that interested," Adele smiled, lifting her gaze at his face, seeing mostly lines of his neck and the underside of his lower jaw. But before her eyes even rested on him, he was already aware of that, lowering his head enough to parry her glance with his. And, _yes_, he _was_ smirking.

"A shame," he dragged the word out derisively. "Such a thrilling story…"

"Oh my, a story?" Grobnar immediately raised himself, his fair head shooting upwards from the journal he was busy with.

"We _really_ don't have time for juicy tales," Adele felt her smile becoming more of a convulsion of face muscles.

"A _juicy _one it is, eh?" _Wonder if I spit in his eye from this position – will I hit the mark?_

"You know others? I doubt it."

"Try me."

"I believe she made it clear she does not want to listen," Casavir's voice came, and Bishop's eyes switch to the paladin.

"Not a mannered sort, are you, paladin," Bishop filtered. "I'm talking to a _lady_ here, and you are interrupting."

"Enough, you two," Duncan interfered even before Adele could. "Unless you want to drive lass mad."

"…Don't think I mind that very much," Adele grinned, pushing herself off the chair and moving backwards to escape from under Bishop's arm, glad of changing the subject. "Would have made a lot of things easier, I suppose," she nodded meaningfully at Grobnar and retreated towards the counter, on her way placing a soothing palm on Casavir's forearm. The paladin's face was stony, but his jaw tightened at Bishop's obvious scorn to her, even though he couldn't figure the reason. Then again, when Bishop even _needed _a reason? Feeling her touch, Casavir glanced down at the woman and, after she whispered "_drop it_", nodded: "I shall be in my room."

_L__ike, you know where to find me if you want the ranger's face broken?_ – Adele's cast a glance at Neeshka, the tiefling's face mirroring her grin as she disappeared in the corridor after the paladin. The woman would have gladly followed, but leaving Bishop and Duncan alone (Grobnar couldn't be of help here, really) was not the best idea – she suspected that Bishop was too much in high moods. And Bishop in high moods meant bad moods for everyone around – even if it would make him dangle her 'saving' in front of the half-elf's face. And cursed she be if she dealt him _that_ card.

Duncan, in his blissful unawareness, patted the place at his side, making her come closer, and lowered his voice: "So how's it going? Seriously. Now, since others don't hear you."

"…You know me better than I thought," she sighed. "But, no, really, everything's fine." _What a handy word 'fine'. Can mean anything from 'wonderful' to 'I'm screwed'. _"Sand's got some thoughts already. And a really good feeling about the whole case."

"Good. Not something I'd say any other time speaking of Sand, but he's smart in this things. He is. But…" he shrugged expressively, "feel free to send him to search for clues in spider-dens if you feel like it." Adele chuckled, and Duncan, apparently pleased with that, grinned again. "Want some coffee? You had a sleepless night too, after all… Don't want _you_ to faint from exhaustion half-way."

"Don't worry," Bishop murmured from his corner, another dagger-edge sharp smirk slashing his face. "She's in good hands."

_Son__avabitch, _- Adele thought helplessly, seeing the half-elf glowered at Bishop. The ranger held his cold stare, the smirk not wavering for a moment. _– As if I don't have enough problems besides you getting under everyone's skin. _

"No coffee, thanks," somehow she managed to keep her voice even and light. "But some water would be nice."

"Take something stronger, princess," Bishop shoved his crossed legs up on the barstool next to his.

"Nah, I'm through with strong drinks. Does harm to the health and all that."

"Ah. Gets you sleepy. I see."

"Yeah, exactly," she smiled at Duncan. "Water."

Duncan moved to the far shelves of the bar, his face a perfect mixture of bewilderment, concern and irritation, and Adele turned to Bishop, significant smirk still in place on ranger's lips. "Not another word," she whispered.

"Or what?" the man probably couldn't have looked more self-satisfied even if he wanted.

"…or you'll make me _very_ angry."

"Now there's a scary thought."

Duncan came back, on his way filling a high glass with water from the pitcher, so Adele had no chance of answering the ranger – not like she _knew _what to answer. As slowly as possible, the most un-thirsty woman in the world bottomed the glass, ignoring Bishop's eyes fixed on her. "Can you lead us from Port Llast to Ember?" she asked finally, without looking at him. _Stick to business, yeah._

"You wound me. Through Duskwood – my favourite route. Behave, and I might even lead you by a _safe_ road," another godsdamned smirk hooked the corner of his lips up. "Whatever it takes to pay a debt, eh, Duncan?"

_Oh, __you're asking for being ungrateful, ranger,_ - Adele fumed silently, seeing how Duncan regarded him with an extra frosty gaze, clearly not willing to fall for the ranger's baiting – but this time Bishop didn't look back at him, keeping his stare on the woman. "Besides, we have our own debt to settle, don't we, princess?" She narrowed her eyes at his, cobalt fury on amber laugh, and Bishop leaned back on the stool, driving in the blade up to the hilt: "In addition to my knife given to the beggar-sop, of course."

"Bishop, lovely," she purred, bending over the counter to him, her voice so sweet there should have been sugar crystallizing on her lips, "how _old_ are you, anyways? Makes me curious, with all your 'big-bad-girl-took-my-knife'."

He sneered: "Now _that_ was painful, princess. Almost right into the kidneys."

"I'll pay you, Bishop," Duncan suddenly stated, his usually lively voice flat.

"The day I'll want collecting debts from _you_ – go ahead and kill me," the ranger snorted, then looked back at the woman: "You were saying?"

"No," she smiled. "_You_ were saying. But if I wounded you that much with taking your knife, then tell me when your birthday is – and I promise, I'll present you with a _new_ shaving-blade."

Bishop chuckled, a hoarse rusty sound that seemed to scrub her skin. "_You_ don't need a knife with a tongue as sharp as yours, I can tell you that."

"Yeah, cut my cheeks from the inside all the time."

"You can try shaving me with it," he cocked his head to the shoulder, slight challenging angle.

"I'm afraid I'll yield to temptation and slit your throat during that. And I _am_ a mass-murderer already," her smile glaciated. "We _shall_ come up with something else, I'm sure."

Bishop grinned, lacing his fingers on the back of his head, pleased flecks gilding his gaze: "Good to hear." Her smile withered at this joy, which only made him look even more pleased, sucker on her anger like he was – and all too aware of her resentment, Bishop dropped his feet to the floor and rose from the barstool. "Is that a smell of meat roasting? Think I'll help myself with some."

"Don't choke," Adele pointed coldly, following him with her eyes, "your corpse will be a bad guide through the woods."

Pausing for a moment, he measured her with a long gaze, then ran his tongue over the inner side of his bottom lip as if savouring the taste. "Well, ain't she a piece of cake?" he smirked at the abyss of silence behind Adele's back that used to be her uncle, and moved towards the kitchen.

Adele snorted quietly, finding herself already more amused than angry. "Gods, he's so sick it's almost sweet," she said under her breath, turning to Duncan. The half-elf didn't answer, looking at the doors where Bishop disappeared, and the woman tilted her head, unable to grasp what made him so grave.

"Watch out for him," Duncan suddenly said, his voice serious as never.

"…Come on, he's just pushing. I thought you know him well enough to bother."

"It's not about that, lass. It's…" the half-elf looked at her intently. "Do not put much trust in him. He's loyalties won't go far the moment he'll decide he paid his debt in full."

"Aw, and I already planned on running away with him to Icewind Dale, build a house of our own and give birth to many-many little Bishies and Dellies."

"Please, lass. I mean it. I'm afraid he'll sell you out to the highest bidder for half-a-copper when he gets a chance."

"Well then, we'll know my exact price," his face remained tight, and Adele sighed, seeing warm and honest worry for her in his eyes - eyes so similar to Daeghun's, yet so utterly different. Daeghun never showed concern for her or anybody, even if he felt it, strong in his belief that one must deal with their problems by themselves. He taught her that way, he made her get used to that belief as well, accept it. Right now she didn't know if she should thank him or curse him for that. Because she better knew Circles of the Nine Hells than what to do with people who were worried for her. "Look," she said finally, her voice as soft as she could manage. "As much as I hate it myself, I need him. Especially now. I need his eyes and his knowledge of the area. And I'm afraid I'm in no position to reject any help, even if not the most unselfish one. And if he'd feel like selling me, then _I_'ll become the highest bidder. I'll handle Bishop. I'll handle everything. So relax and smile, will you? Pretty please?"

Duncan shook his head, but a smile crawled to his lips, even if unvoluantarily one. "Alright, lass. But if something happens to you…"

"Nothing will, my word," she arched her brow. "And, by the way - _half-a-copper_? I'd like to hope I cost more than that."

"You do, you do," Duncan waved her off. "Now go get a bath and a meal before I changed my mind and locked you in a closet not to worry anymore."

"You won't, you are too a wonderful and fair man for that…" she purred unctuously.

"Stop it…" he chuckled.

"Now _that's_ much better, isn't it?"

"It's impossible arguing with you, you know it?"

"Then don't," Adele stated with a final grin and gave him a salute. "In case some more assassins come looking for me, I'm in the bath from now on."

"Get lost already," Duncan laughed, leaning on the counter and, as she obeyed, couldn't help but snigger once more. "Esmerelle in flesh…"

Her smile held on her face until the corridor_. _But since the corridor was empty, Adele dropped it.

* * *

She placed the washed plate on top of others, the soft 'clink' echoing weakly in her ears. _All_ sounds seemed distant, the feeling she was not comfortable with. The whole _city_ she was not comfortable with. It made her feel… tiny, helpless, severed from the endless veins and cores that ran through the land, through every thing living and growing. Console she took in freeing her senses to brush the minds of creatures inhabiting this prison of silent stone was only for a time… and she couldn't deny how appealing was the thought of _not_ bringing those senses back…

Elanee took a breath, steadying herself. That was what she had been warned about by the druid of Neverwinter forest. That was what destroyed Kaleil, trapped him in the form of a bear, drove him mad. Whatever lurked beneath the Mere, was indeed spreading… this feeling… this _tempt_…

"Qara, lass," Duncan went into the kitchen, and the sorceress folded her arms, tapping her foot on the floor in anticipation of more orders. But the half-elf froze on the threshold, looking at Elanee instead. "No-no, washing dishes is _her_ work."

"She came by herself, I didn't ask her!" the girl declared heatedly, and Elanee waved her hand, small droplets of water falling on the floor:

"It is alright, Duncan, I did." If only she could explain how good water on her fingers felt. "No trouble."

"You are a collection of the most stubborn creatures I've ever met," Duncan admitted, throwing a quick irritated glance at the snort from the human ranger, who lurked in the corner of the kitchen, picking at a piece of roast meat. His wolf companion was doing partially the same, wandering around the small cozy room, looking for anything he could eat. The girl's weasel watched him guardedly from his mistress' shoulder.

Elanee drowned another plate, rinsing it carefully, no longer paying attention to what Duncan had to say to Qara, until they both went back to common room. More dishes, perhaps. Or discuss something about this mockery of a trial Adele had to go through. Elanee couldn't pretend she understood this ways of cities and civilization, all the laws people invented to convince everybody – and mostly themselves – that they are no animals ruled by mere instincts, desires and nature.

But if that was what it took – she could bear it.

Her mind drifted easily towards the wolf – Karnwyr, as he and his human called him – but lingered, not dwelling deep, only sliding along the surface of his being, a weave of coloured smells, scented images, pure and simple desires… The wolf stopped, his head turning abruptly towards her, the animal feeling her invasion – and not wishing to let her in. For his mind was _shared_. Shared with the human in the corner, coexistence side by side making them almost one. His fur bristling on his neck and along his spine, he retreated to his companion, almost crashing his muzzle on the ranger's lap, as if to make it clear who was his master here. Still occupied with washing, Elanee watched him asquint for a few heartbeats – until calloused fingers dug softly into the wolf's wiry fur.

"Something you need, druid?" derisive voice wondered.

She rubbed the plate dry with a cloth. She couldn't read the mind of the wolf clearly – but that wasn't even necessary. The sense was fresh enough to feel. Sense of night, and high grass, and cold rapture of hunt… outside Neverwinter walls…

Sense of Solace Glade.

"You may know paths of the wilderness and forests," she said calmly, placing the last plate on a small tower of dishes. "But every forest has thousands of eyes and ears… And they are all mine."

A pause, so small it could have almost been ignored. Almost. "Was that a threat?"

"If you think it should be," Elanee dried her hands and put the cloth down, turning to face him. "Then it _is_."

Hooded wolfish eyes regarded her up and down, and the ranger snorted, returning to his meal. "Go get laid, druid," he expertly cut a piece of meat in smaller slices. "You surely need it."

Not deigning his barb with an answer, Elanee reached for the kettle of boiling water…

* * *

He watched her as she left, probably to drink her herbal tea, then run and hug the nearest tree or make a daisy-chain, whatever. With the tip of the knife Bishop shoved a piece of chop to the side of a plate and pushed it further, dropping over the edge for Karnwyr to catch, and rubbed between his ears.

"Another rabid dog ready to tear throats to defend the precious half-breed," Bishop murmured to the wolf. Karnwyr sniffed in agreement and lashed his tongue out to lick his muzzle. The ranger stuck the knife into meat, hooking another slice and throwing it into his mouth.

_Nice job, princess._


	20. XX: Hold Your Ground, Bide Your Time

**XX:** Hold Your Ground, Bide Your Time

With blood trickling down his hands, Bishop contemplated life.

Or, rather, different ways to end one.

Bare flesh slippery against his fingers, he rolled the skinned rabbit in his palm, grabbing its backbone firmly, and forced the knife up, ripping the belly open and suppressing an urge to grit his teeth. Hells be witness, he hated skinning with this knife. The handle was too smooth, slipping in the grip when the blade tried to cut through something thicker than mere flesh. Even more irritating was that he had got used to his old skinning knife so much that was constantly forgetting he didn't have it anymore – right until it got down to skinning. And by then it was too late to curse himself for not finding a suitable substitute.

His lips curled to the side in a smirk when he pictured dragging the thrice-damned blade through the gullet of the swampgirl – where it would certainly get stuck in the neck-bone – and nodding at her dark-blue eyes widening in pain and horror above his hand clasping her mouth and stained with her own blood: _See, princess, my former skinning knife would have done that quicker, cleaner and nearly painless._

It was stupid, he knew, getting attached to a piece of metal and wood – yet he had, during long years. And every time he was forced to work with another blade, he honestly considered the lost knife to be much more valuable than the sorry pale hide of his 'leader'.

On the other hand, the irritating skinning was his own choice. Rabbits were not really needed – the camp was supposed to be short, without any fire to kindle and, therefore, any hot meal to prepare. But scouting and checking the traps he kept in these parts was a wonderful mean of getting some fresh air after playing happy family with the freak circus. Not to mention that _scouting_ was neither needed. The lands around Port Llast, so close to Neverwinter, had always been secure enough. And the road there, even the back-one they took to avoid the main, he could follow almost blindly. After all, the town was the most usual transshipment point in his smuggling routes between Luskan and Neverwinter. It has been a while since he had any job in that sphere, though, after Moire and her goons – his best customers – were dealt with in the Docks. Still, it was amusing in its own twisted way that now he was working for exactly the person who had done it. The person who had Luskans at her throat to the pile.

Never the one for philosophical pondering (not on sober head, at least), Bishop could still discern the irony of Fate when it was cocking a snook so blatantly at his face.

_Amusing as all Hells, indeed._

_Wonder if the wizard is as amused._

During two agonizingly long years of his living under the 'Flagon's roof, Bishop had more than enough of the pompous elven smartass from the nearest shop – and even in his nightmares he couldn't imagine he would end up being saddled with him on the road. It was not only about his imperious manners, which would have seemed rather pathetic coming from a skinny donkey-eared stick – _would have_, if it wasn't accompanied by some slimy slithering feeling the ranger had around him, some unsettling sensation at the very edge of his instincts, a sensation he learnt to trust more than anything. He knew a hornet's nest when he saw one, even if it pretended to be a humble shopkeeper. It seemed, the wizard did, too – so until this forced union under the banner of the swampgirl they had both done a great job of pretending the other didn't exist and kept away from each other, as if afraid to catch some incurable disease.

The ranger had his suspicions what that disease was. After all, Luskan stench was as clinging as smell of moss on their village-murdering half-breed.

_Well, here I beat them – I have both._

Bishop smirked down mirthlessly at the rabbit, which stared back at him in blank glassy eyes, and twisted his knife, cutting the rabbit's bowel out of its opened gut with much more vehemence than was rightfully needed.

Not that the dead cared, anyway.

His eye caught a glimpse of movement at the tree-line, and soon enough Karnwyr padded silently towards him, limp meaty form of another rabbit hanging from his mouth, spine already snapped by the wolf's jaws clenched tightly around its neck. Dropping his prey on the grass near Bishop, he cocked his furry head, staring at the ranger, and the ranger gazed back at him, not for the first time realizing how blessed he was with a _mute_ companion. Holding his stare, the wolf slowly tilted his head to the other side, as if mocking, and Bishop couldn't help but grin.

"Too generous, don't you think?" he murmured, putting away the rabbit he was finished with, and tucked the knife into the neck of the brought one, deep enough to lift it from the ground by the handle. Karnwyr followed the rabbit with his eyes, almost like considering whether, indeed, he should have eaten it instead of bringing, then sniffed dismissively and dumped himself on the grass, his languid laziness suggesting he was full already.

Still grinning, Bishop sliced the hide of the rabbit. Generous or not, to dry some meat in advance seemed like a good idea – would save him the risk of hunting and eating the _things_ that inhabited Duskwood.

_And __keep me on this nicely quiet and empty clearing for a bit longer…_

He had enough experience with working as a scout for one bunch of travellers or the other – but it was the first time he recalled that he ended up being _involved_. Whether it was the bloody gnome who seemed to live to keep someone a company, the sorceress whining about something that didn't please her Tiny Majesty again, the tiefling and the dwarf arguing about this or that, the silent ever-present watchful gaze of the druidess – every thing constantly reminded him that there was a reason he usually preferred to work _alone_. There was something to say about the wench and her nerve, if she managed to put up with all of her horde on daily basis. In her shoes the ranger would have gladly fed at least the gnome to Karnwyr – though he had a sick suspicion that even during _that_ the runt would be whistling merry tunes.

_Or I can skin him__, dismember and present as a game,_ - he mused. – _Half of the imbeciles won't make one piece of flayed meat from another, anyway._

Generally he had no problems with ignoring anyone around, but even his indifference had its limits. And the more time he spent with the band, the more he felt like a victim of torture, the one who got small droplets of water dripping on their sinciput for days and, eventually, driving them crazy. More and more often Bishop seriously considered if his decision of casting his lot with the bunch was an attempt to jump higher than his head was.

Surprisingly enough, the two-coloured minx was unfazed, neither by constant bickering and whining on the way nor by the way itself, as if she had already cleaned her pretty hands back to their whiteness and got drunk to celebrate. Out of sheer curiosity Bishop even felt interested what had the wizard shoved into those little pointy ears of hers that made her so placid and confident. Like Luskans would give a rat's ass about some trial or its results. If they wanted her, they would get her. One way or the other.

But it was her funeral, after all. And if she wanted to trust her neck into the hands of Neverwinter, elven worm and their 'justice' – she was in her full right to be a cretin. Bishop was never the one to stop people from dying when they made so much effort. Besides, he was pretty sure he would take quite a pleasure from giving Duncan a condolatory pat on the shoulder.

…_if __she dies, of course…_

All in all, Bishop didn't care whether the girl would end her life on the gallows or poked onto the point of assassins' blade. The thing was, he too much enjoyed getting to Luskans – and yet another possibility, even in the person of an air-brained wench, was never a bad thing. Karnwyr, too, sometimes lashed on the packs of stray dogs, those that hung in the alleys of the city, near the back door of a tavern, waiting for a serving girl or a cook to throw them some leftovers from the meal. The wolf chased them away, and it was never because of the scraps – it was the mere pleasure of not allowing filthy mongrels to have what they craved for.

_Besides,_ - he smirked at the new thought, – _these particular scraps owe me quite a gulp._

His smirk widened at the memory of her clawlike glare back at the Flagon, almost palpable chill emanating from her – the same that started to ooze through her mild patient façade every time she smelled the situation was close to coming out of her control.

He got her there.

Though, surely, Her Swamp Highness was too fucking much of a _Highness_ to admit it. But he knew he hit the mark – he _always_ knew when he did. Bishop could nearly hear the sound of an arrow plunging right into the bull's-eye.

But he didn't press the issue, letting her slip away for the time. After all, the farther one gets, the more painful it is when the leash is jerked back. Maybe he would even manage to strangle Duncan's dear niece with it.

_Eye for__ an eye, Duncan,_ - smirk turned into a sneer. _– Nothing personal, really._

Finishing with the rabbits, Bishop wiped the knife against the grass, sliding it back into the boot-sheath, cupped some salt from the pouch, rubbed it generously into the fresh meat, leaving enough grains in a thick lair on the surface to draw out blood, and then wrapped the rabbits carefully into the cloth. Making sure that there was enough of viscera staying around for Karnwyr to snatch if he felt like it, Bishop got up to his feet, swung the sack with the venison on his shoulder and reached for the flask. After taking a large swig of malt whiskey, he glanced up at the sky to figure how much time they had before the light would start to fade, rolling the liquid in his mouth, allowing it to pinch the insides of his cheeks and the root of his tongue before swallowing. As the drink burnt its way down his throat, he felt better. The spirits washed away the bad taste in his mouth he had got at the thought of coming back to the camp and listening to the exchanges of the band he was travelling with. The paladin alone usually left him with the feeling he had chewed an old moldy bast wisp.

But still, as annoying as the bunch was, he chose to sit on his haunches and bide his time for a while – seeing how potentially profitable they turned out to be. It took him just a bit of pulling some contacts and dropping some coin to find out. The demon-girl already had a bounty on her horned head, all set and wrapped up, put by one of the city thieves, Leldon or whatever. The redhead obviously crapped things up in her Academy enough for possibility that someone there wouldn't mind seeing her dead. Not to mention that their '_leader'_ had enemies swarming towards her like flies to a decaying corpse.

_Wherever you look from, there's plenty of reasons __to keep her alive for a while._

So it didn't really matter how much of his nerves the idiots plucked – as long as he could always make it up for himself in something much more tangible and solid.

Metal.

With barest of smiles he closed his eyes so that his vision in no way overlapped other senses, and sniffed the air, thick with sea-salt mixed to forest scent. The rain was coming, that he could tell. Hopefully, they would be able to get to Port Llast before that.

Casting last look at Karnwyr, whose whole appearance showed that he was _not_ coming with him, Bishop grinned at the wolf and started to mount the hill, inwardly wincing every time he came across the traces of their previous movement. Luckily, the girl had heeded his advice and left the horses behind, not to leave an obvious trail. But it appeared to be in vain, as the dwarf had a habit of cutting down the bushes and overgrowth that got in the way with his axe.

_Maybe she'll take another __reasonable advice and ditch some of her retinue in Port Llast. _

_Eh, wishful thinking. When it comes to the misfits, 'reason' disappears from her vocabulary._

Echoes of voices began to reach his ears soon enough, and almost involuntarily he strained his hearing, trying to discern the lilting drawl of his beloved squire, but she was silent. Instead he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of steel on steel, sword grinding against the sword, and instinctively reached for his bow – but his hand froze in the air as the clanging was accompanied by the frustrated breathless groan of the blond farmwench, followed by the burst of laughter from the dwarf:

"Keepin' ya on yer toes, eh, lass?"

Bishop snorted, resuming his way. Another round of 'training' it was, obviously. Her Swamp Highness wasn't going to give up on a helpless cause anytime soon. But sliding between the trees, Bishop stopped in his tracks, seeing that it was the _paladin_ this time who sparred with the farmgirl, both iron-clad figures rounding each other in a circle of trampled down grass.

A shame. He enjoyed watching their half-blooded princess doing tricks with her blade. Whoever trained her was surely worth their payment.

_Not like __she managed to pass it to her pupil, anyway,_ - he mused, following the swish of the farmgirl's sword with his eyes. – _Well, at least, blondie doesn't look like she's trying to mow hay anymore._

He briefly scanned the band, everyone in place, all the soft spots of their leader. The dwarf was sitting in the grass, his back on the tree, watching the fight with evident delight – Hells, everything that included swinging weapon made him ecstatic. The tiefling and the druidess chatted about something in hushed voices. The mad runt, blissfully silent for a change, fiddled about with his lute. The wizard's eyes were also on the training, but he looked more like he was thinking… or sleeping… or even dying. The hot-headed backfisch tried desperately to rub away some dirt from her boots, taking place thoroughly aside from the elf.

_One bloody happy family__, indeed, - _he smiled darkly to himself. - _Such a nice target practice it could have been…_

Ignoring a short acknowledging glance his arrival received from the wizard, Bishop came up to his belongings thrown under the tree and unwrapped the rabbits, tying them to the lower branch to dry-cure the meat a bit. The sorceress eyed the still dripping game, and wrinkled in disgust:

"What is _that_?"

"Your future dinner, tot," Bishop answered, wiping his hands from the blood and adjusting the gloves.

"And it's vital to put this bleeding muck in everyone's eyes?"

"What, eating their roasted corpses is alright, but seeing them butchered isn't? Now that's hypocrisy if I ever saw one."

If the girl flinched more, her whole face would have probably crawled inside her empty head. "Keep it up," she warned him, "and you'll get more roasted meat on yourself than you can handle."

Bishop chuckled, but did nothing to dissuade her. It would have been pointless, anyway. The brat was too drunk on her own power. With any luck, he hoped, she and the wizard would fry one another as a result of their occasional gnawing and save him the trouble.

Keeping away from the blonde, who was slowly retreating and fighting off the steadily pressing paladin, Bishop aimed an unhurried lazy pace to the large moss-grown tree a bit aside from the rest, where the Princess of the Mere took their royal lounge, her scraggy frame leaning against the trunk, arms crossed casually over her chest, eyes following every move of the fighters. As he came up to her, she flashed him one of her trained silky half-smiles that left no illusion she was glad to see him and returned her attention to the sparring pair.

"No bloodthirsty deadly enemies around?" she wondered absently, her eyes narrowing briefly at some obviously unsuccessful lunge the farmgirl made.

"Unfortunately," Bishop deadpanned, propping himself against the tree. She didn't shift, didn't move away, but her shoulders drew back ever so slightly, nestling a bit tighter up the trunk - an instinctive attempt to secure her back as much as possible. _Clumsy as dammit, princess._ He bended his arm, leaning on his elbow to test how much more of invasion into her personal space she could take, and lowered his voice. "But with all the clanging out here, I'm sure, somebody in Amn will soon hear and catch up."

"Eh, I never slaughtered any Amnian ships for them to bother," she answered in the same light offhand tone, and Bishop smirked. Just wasn't able not to.

"You sure? Or we'll wait for some knight to come and inform us that you _did_?"

Her smile stayed, but the corners of her lips tightened, deepening the little dimples on her cheeks. _So we _have_ a nerve there, don't we, my pretty lady._ "Gods, Bishop," she purred without looking at him, "two days on the road, and you still have the strength to be an ass."

"Not only for _that_," he returned suggestively.

That drew a chuckle out of her, a sincere one, though quiet and mixed with a sigh: "My, what a man."

And she still didn't move, not willing to surrender any inch of the tree to him, her eyes fixed on the spar, her expression smoothly neutral. Something told Bishop that even if he started sucking at her earlobe right now, she would manage to keep that face straight. Hells, he could probably slam her against the tree and screw her right here – and she would watch the fighters above his shoulder with the same distant look.

Or not.

But finding out was not worth the risk of getting a holy sword or a dwarven axe through the guts, that's for sure.

_Thoug__h it's probably worth seeing the face of a paladin… _

He couldn't help but snort quietly, turning his gaze towards the sweet sparring pair, the paladin too busy with the farmgirl to notice how Bishop defiled their fair leader with his presence. What there was in the blondie to keep one so occupied was a question. To Bishop it took only a few moments of watching to pick out all the lapses – the wench was still not completely comfortable in her new chainmail… got used to sparring with a left-hander… was pushed into defense without any pains… and, yeah, the damned paladin was going too easy on her. Made Bishop wonder if the man ever got fucked up because of his own chivalry.

_Plenty of times, I'll bet,_ - the farmer's blade ducked low, but the paladin batted it away without much effort, leaving the wench pathetically opened. – _Now was a damn good time to slam the shield into her face and end the battle, halo boy. The hardest way is the quickest._

Apparently, he was not the only one to notice – as the moment the two stopped to catch their breath, the dwarf shook his head disapprovingly at the paladin.

"Heh, lad," he grunted. "Ya'r not fightin', ya'r courtin' her."

"Yeah?" the blonde breathed out heavily. Her face was flushed, almost making her look like she and the paladin indeed had a nice tumble. "Think you can do better?"

The dwarf chortled into his beard: "Nay, lass, I'd've cut ya down to the right height first," he swished his palm through the air for the picture. "Right under yer knees."

"It is merely training," the paladin answered in his usual even unfaltering tone, that made it hard to tell whether he was explaining or chastising. Anyway, it all tasted like a bast wisp to Bishop. "I do not think it would be wise to seriously damage Shandra during it."

"What makes you think you would?" the princess suddenly grinned. "She _can_ do better than that."

He looked back at the blonde: "Can you?"

The farmgirl scowled in mock severity, instantly coming on him in a whirlwind of slashing, and he backed off with a soft chuckle, parrying her thrusts with tedious orderliness.

"Did he _ask_ for an honour of killing her?" Bishop murmured, fetching his flask.

Her Highness shrugged. "She needs it."

"Being killed?" he snorted. "I'll say."

"Being _trained_," an undercurrent of irritation flowed into her voice, but she banished it, glancing at him shortly, and Bishop smirked at the ice behind her iris, taking a sip from the flask. For a second the wench looked like she was going to turn away again, but stopped, her eyes suddenly widening in something close to hope. "Is that alcohol?" she asked, nodding at his flask.

"Yeah," Bishop took another sip and clicked his tongue in appreciation. "And a good one at that."

Her lips formed another of her smiles, this time a sweet and beguiling one. "May I?"

"You said you are through with strong drinks."

"Well, it appears I lied, then," she answered lightly, making him wonder if indeed the girl lied as naturally as breathed. "…Please?"

"And what will I get in return?"

"My immense gratitude," she arched her brow in a jibe. "Or what, should I blow you for it?"

Bishop stared at the woman, not really positive he heard what he heard, then choked over with a startled snort which broke free and grew into a full laughter that he made no efforts to smother. The sound predictably drew the glances of those unoccupied, but he gave little crap about that.

_Hells, you are wasted __on Neverwinter, little bitch._

Probably assuming she paid her price in her tongue, she snatched the flask from his hand and, praising him with another fleeting smile, slumped her spine back to the tree, turning her eyes off him to the spar. "Elanee says the rain is coming," she remarked before taking a gulp.

"Not in the nearest three-four hours," Bishop answered, deliberately not following her example and still staring at her.

She nodded vacantly, whether satisfied with his answer or not really caring at all – Bishop couldn't tell.

The paladin finally surrendered at the farmgirl's discretion, ending up that joke of a fight, and lowered his blade in appreciation. "I have to take my words back," he said. "You are indeed improving rapidly."

"Thanks, I hope so," the farmgirl returned with a flattered grin, trying to recover her breath. _Hells, like a puppy that got a rub behind her ear for a pretty trick._

"But the attack can be even better," the princess pointed, trailing her lower lip absentmindedly with the thumb of her hand clasping the flask.

The farmgirl flinched. "The longsword is heavier than I'm used to." She sighed and jerked her shoulder, adjusting the mail, "And this chain is Hells." Looking back at the paladin, she shook her head, "Don't even know how you manage to pull along a _full_ plate all the time."

"If you ever need help with removing it," Bishop smirked, "just say."

That was enough to make the paladin's face darken like a stormy sky, while the blonde cringed, setting her jaw defiantly. The ranger knew that the wench barely tolerated his mere existence – knew it just as well as the fact that she wouldn't be able to hold back an answer. She was pushed into defense easily not only in battle.

"Even_ if_ I ever consider help – you will be the last person…" she didn't finish, seeing his smirk widen:

"Come on, sweetheart, I only suggested. Don't act like I _insisted_ very much."

Her face flushed, and the paladin took a threatening step forward, as always ready to shield any poor damsel with himself – but before Bishop could taste holy wrath, his side burst with pain, dumb and sudden, just under the ribs. Clenching his teeth, the ranger turned his head, glaring into the narrowed cobalt eyes. She didn't say a word, keeping her fist deep in his side where she slammed it, only moved her brow a little in warning.

_So this is how you want to play, princess?_

He bared his clenched teeth in a sneer, when suddenly her fist pressed even further into his side, at the same time easing itself – and even through his leathers Bishop felt that it was not only the fist there. Dropping his eyes, he saw his own flask in her grip.

"Thank you," she cooed, opening her fingers, and Bishop barely managed to catch the flask before it fell to the ground. As he looked back at her, the smile was already on her face, soft and gentle, with only a barely visible gloating curve to it.

It was beyond him, how anybody could buy that smile of hers. The same smile she slit the gith's throat with.

Smirking, he inclined his head mockingly:

"Always a pleasure, m'lady."

Without an answer she left him be, pushing herself off the trunk and wandering towards the farmgirl and the paladin, stretching herself lazily, and draped her arm around the blonde's shoulder, dragging her away and twittering something about the training in the most smooth voice. Tracing his finger along the neck of the flask, the ranger lifted it to his mouth and took a full-hearted draught, wondering if he could make out _her_ taste left among the whiskey.

He could feel the paladin's look, lead-heavy with disapproval and suspicion, but didn't bother to assert it.

_Chin-chin, holy bastard__._

Hanging the flask back to his belt, Bishop folded his arms, leaning against the tree, watching the wench, his gaze dragging along her back, her behind, her legs that seemed long enough to wrap twice around a man's rear – at least some nature's triumph over the flat front and unspeakable hair - and not for the first time thought that, perhaps, this particular horse was worth a ride after all.

And with her temper… Hells, he could probably race her into gallop.

* * *

…A flash of light flooded the cave, followed by a deafening clap of thunder, and Adele opened her eyes, sitting up in her bedroll and blinking slowly. She wasn't sure if it was the storm that woke her up, a bad dream or she just slept her fill - but it didn't really matter that much. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around. The campfire had already died, and figures of her sleeping companions sank in the obscure shades of the cave, making it hard to tell one from another. Adele smiled inwardly, being able to discern at least one thing – Neeshka's bare feet freed from soaked wraps, pale blots in the gloom, peeking from under her blanket. As the gust of moist wind burst into the cavern, she saw the tiefling shiver, curling up her toes from the cold. The chill was notable, indeed. Almost made Adele wish she borrowed Bishop's flask for the night – catching a cold and coughing herself to death was the last thing she needed.

They'd been merely in couple of hours' way from Port Llast already, and almost everyone was for reaching the town, be it even in the dark – but then came the rain. Not even rain, but a real pour, northern, freezing, biting.

Bishop took them to the closest safe (and dry) place he knew – this deep cave in the hill that dug its way almost underground. Luckily, there was enough room for everyone, and even some left for the fire, near which they were able to hang and lay their outer clothing, boots and armor to dry it up a little. Adele wouldn't have given voice to it, but she was glad of the unplanned delay. It was good, she figured, being on the road, the starting point left behind, the reaching point still way ahead. Nothing to worry about apart from lifting one foot and placing it in front of the other. Nothing to carry on her shoulders apart from the pack. She had a sickening feeling that in Port Llast she'll get much more.

_Gods, you are a wuss, Delly._

Smiling at her own inner grumbling, she combed her hair back with her fingers, redoing the tail, careful enough not to wake Shandra who happened to sleep beside her. At least, she was sleeping – unlike the previous night, during which the woman tossed and turned, haunted by the thoughts and sorrows Adele saw in her eyes from the moment they heard about Ember. Her calculations were correct, it seemed, for the trainings wore Shandra out enough to present her with a deep peaceful slumber.

_But not you, huh?_

As meaningless as walking was, it was better than stops - made her feel that she was _doing_ something, and doing enough to keep herself content, not minding all the discomfort, and constant baiting, that happened every time one of her companions opened his or her mouth. Even Qara at once forgot her previous complaints about Neeshka and Khelgar's arguing – now that Sand was along. Somewhere on the way from Neverwinter mages came to mutual conclusion that field of magic was too small to contain both of them and weren't missing any opportunity to try and push one another out of it to the wayside ditch – Qara with her usual all-conquering overweening disregard, Sand more of a skilled torturer plucking tiny but sharp needles in painful places with the most placid face. But somehow it were exactly those squabbles that made the point – Sand was… _accepted_, taking his place in their motley group, as if it was always there, meant solely for him.

Adele, on her part, found herself mostly in the pleasant company of Grobnar, only the two of them seeming capable to get along with everyone – or, rather, to ignore enough to get along. The gnome indeed pried her for every detail of her vigil, but she discovered it easy to come up with some details without revealing the whole truth and at the same time not lying to him straight on – because lying to those excited gleaming eyes seemed the ugliest thing she could muster.

Half of the way she expected Bishop to edge his way into the exchange. He didn't. Another half of the way she suspected that he would jump on her every time she was alone, cooing that she owed him, with a feral sneer and, maybe, even a trail of spittle running from his mouth to add to a scary image. He didn't. The ranger disturbingly did _nothing_ apart from leading the way and being his usual irritating self. Much to her dismay, Adele appeared almost disappointed by that – perhaps, because she had spent some time steeling herself for Bishop's anticipated charges. But son of a bitch made it useless. And if there was something Adele hated, it's doing something useless.

The wind came from the outside in another wave of merciless thorny drops-filled air, and the woman clutched at her blanket tighter, making up her mind to try and get back to sleeping, when the lightning again scourged the night sky, its blaze outlining the figure standing near the exit of the cave.

Casavir.

He was just standing, keeping watch, his hands clasped behind his back – with only a slight blur to the perfect soldier-stance as his shoulder was propping the stone wall – and peered outside. Adele got to her feet, taking her blanket with her and, wrapping it around her shoulders, padded quietly towards him, also looking out trying to understand what got his attention.

Nothing but tight jets of rain whipping the trees and hazed grass.

And only then, glancing at the sky, at the stars blinking scaredly through the gaps in the clouds, Adele realized what it truly was that got her up.

"_Someone_ hadn't woken me on my watch," she informed the rain in a low confidential tone, and Casavir, becoming aware of her presence, immediately straightened himself, shifting his unearthly blue gaze to her. Adele arched her brow at him. "Any idea who it might be?"

"…You need your sleep," he said, by that admitting his guilt – but not really _looking_ guilty. A skill Adele hoped one day to develop for herself. "You are being through enough."

"Yeah, I like that excuse, too," she smiled, as usual a bit amused by the confused look in his eyes as he was trying to get if she was serious or not. Honestly, Adele sometimes couldn't say _herself_ if she was serious or not. "But since I'm already awake, might as well take the watch," she glanced at the sky being torn by another lightning. "Besides, don't think anybody would peek his nose out to attack us."

"There is always a possibility," Casavir mentioned. "Do not trouble yourself and get as much rest as you need."

"Like my conscience would allow me to have my beauty sleep while you are freezing out here instead of me."

Casavir went silent for awhile, then suddenly shook his head slightly, that motion somehow easing his formal posture, even his shoulders lost a tad of their stiff angle. "You seem to always know a way to corner me," he admitted softly.

Her smile grew wider, now, that formalities seemed out of the way, and the woman leaned on the opposite side of the cave-entrance, tucking up her blanket around her in a fashion that kept her warm and at the same time provided something soft under her back. "I never really thanked you," she pointed, "for talking to Grayson about me. Don't know _what_ you said, but it surely gave me a credit."

"No gratitude is needed. It was the least I could do."

"Still, thanks… It must not have been the easiest thing – since you… left," she glanced at him, knowing that there was a swampy ground ahead.

His stare travelled away from her eyes - more than enough proof to her thoughts – and turned back to the rain. "Such things do not matter when something greater is at stake. And Grayson is one of a few people who… perhaps… had not fully understood my leaving, but at least felt my need to do so."

"…Need?" she probed, at the same time wondering if he remembered about the 'shut-up' thing. Something told her that even if he did, he would never resort to it.

"Yes," his voice was back to its blank depth, revealing nothing of his thoughts, while his eyes searched the rain.

"Well, I still don't get why they would even hold a grudge in Neverwinter because of your leaving."

He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious: "I betrayed my oath to Neverwinter. And never informed them of my decision to leave."

"So? It's not like you've left to march towards Luskan gates and offer your service to _them_. After what you've done in Old Owl Well… gods, they should be thanking you, not condemning," she wrapped the blanket tighter, a little more briskly than the blanket deserved, and Casavir glanced at her, his expression unreadable in the gloom. Adele sighed, trying to suppress the annoyance. It seemed that, despite her bravado, the weight of what happened to her was catching up. Besides, she felt the approach of that specific time of month when every woman wished she was born a man – and Neverwinter and its politics looked like a fine target to lash out at. "Don't know, maybe I'm naive or something, but I always thought that when you are demanding devotion from somebody – be kind enough to give something in return. Appreciation for what is done, at least. Instead that Nevalle guy stood right beside you and pretended he didn't notice your presence."

The paladin looked at her for a fracture of moment, then shook his head again, easier. "I do not need their appreciation," he said calmly. "Even less that of sir Nevalle personally. I did what I had to do. In the eyes of many the will of Tyr and that of Neverwinter's is one and the same. One day I simply understood that it is not. And there was no place in the city service for me anymore."

"Still… it's not like you left to meet some selfish ends…"

"You understand that," Casavir nodded. "But the rulers… Nasher, too, is concerned about Neverwinter and its people, but he is a politician. He has to be careful. He has to weight his every decision on a global scale. And because of that, sometimes, those for whom it is done – _should_ be done – are lost in the shadow. I thought that, perhaps, even alone I would be able to do something. It was an impulse decision – and, maybe, not the correct one…"

"Why? I mean, why do you think so _now_? You did help. Those in Old Owl Well. Us."

"…Yes, I see it now. I see that a greater good has been accomplished. And I'm grateful to you for it."

"…To me?" she blinked at him. Whatever he said about her cornering him, it was _he_ who never failed to drive her into stupor. "What for?"

"You… reassured me. In your face I saw that there _are_ worthy people in Neverwinter's service still. If there were more of them – maybe, lives of others would have been better."

It was her turn to stare at the rain.

_Hells__, __now __it__'__s __awkward__._

People like her? What, hordes of those who wanted to get into Blacklake and thus jumping into the Watch? If there _were_ more… how much more warehouses strewn with tens of thieves' corpses would have been left behind? She would have been a liar to say that it bothered her – those who lifted their weapons on anybody surely had to expect that they could be brought down just as easily. It was only some part of her, her ever-present dry and distant observer that chalked down every death she caused. Without judging or justifying – simply taking note.

Perhaps, there was some poetic justice or unhealthy god's joke that, after cutting down countless enemies and being praised for that, she ended up accused of the one thing she _didn't_ do.

Casavir's hand suddenly came down on her shoulder, and Adele almost gave a start, looking up at him. His face seemed older, but at the same time softer in the rare pale light of the storm and shrouding darkness.

"You _are_ worthy," he said quietly, his blue eyes fixed on hers. "And for _that_ I am grateful."

…_Oh, __darn you, _- she thought helplessly, _- shut up…_

"You shouldn't be, really," Adele answered aloud. "I mean… I'm glad if I did something, but… you do much for me, too."

"Can it be any other way? You steadied me in difficult times. It is a great debt, a debt I cannot repay in any other way if not with my sword. I…" she averted her eyes, and his voice trailed off, his hand falling off her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I seem to make you feel uncomfortable. I didn't mean to. I am just trying to say that, whatever happens, I am by your side – and would do anything to aid you. Do not doubt it."

"I don't," she looked back at him. "Really, I don't. And Neverwinter's loss is our gain." She smiled, "I'm glad you are with us."

"…It is... good to hear," almost on impulse, Casavir glanced back, at the rest of their companions. Khelgar gave a grunting snort, rolling to the others side in his sleep, and the paladin couldn't hold back a smile. "I think I am glad I am with you, too."

"Then… please… don't say a thing about some debt to me or owning or any of that crap," she flinched. "It's Bishop's line there."

"…Alright," he moved his gaze back towards the rain, but it didn't escape Adele how a frown creased his face.

"Something wrong?"

He was silent for some time, probably picking up words in his mind, then frowned deeper:

"This man… Bishop…"

Adele had to purse her lips not to grin – it seemed no one could muster so much disdain in one word as Casavir when saying ranger's name.

"You don't like him," she nodded in understanding. "Well, really, no surprise there."

"It is not about that. Or, should I say, it is not _only_ about that," he corrected himself, and Adele smirked despite her efforts. But he regained his seriousness quickly. "I do not trust him. I do not trust people like him. Scavengers. Jackals. Those that will stop at nothing. Those that _feel_ nothing."

"Eh, let him be," Adele moved her shoulder indifferently. "As long as he can find the way through the forest," she stared at clouds. "Besides, if to put aside his attitude, he is… "

…_is what?_

_A__m I defending him? Now that's a bad sign. A _really_ bad one._

Casavir waited for her to finish, but when she didn't, his face seemed to darken a little. "Do be careful around him, Adele," he said quietly, and she had to nod again, wondering inwardly how many times she'd have to drop her head down and up and down before people would start to get that she_ was_ well aware of the problems Bishop could cause. "I do not like the way he looks at you."

The woman's head stopped in mid-nod, her eyes widening as she stared up at the paladin. _Alright, that was unexpected._ "…Huh? And how does he look at me?"

He didn't say a word, but something in his expression made her remember Georg, the old militia leader at West Harbour, when he was warning her about the 'threats' of the big ugly worlds outside the Mere, especially about men. She had nearly chuckled that time – and barely held herself from it again.

"Oh," was all she could manage. "You mean like _that_..."

For good or not, but she thought she had already crossed the age-line when someone would alert her about some questionable glances of men. Besides, she could hardly aspire for a title of Virgin Queen of Faerun, and had more than one direct witness and participant to that - perhaps, even a bit more than a girl who grew up in a small secluded village should have got. But nevertheless, apart from Georg, Adele couldn't even remember last time anyone showed this concern for her female inviolability. It suddenly made her feel warm inside. After all, she never had an older brother as Bevil did – so she allowed herself to enjoy.

…_Casavir as a brother, Elanee as a mommy, Duncan – a wonderful uncle…_ - her inner voice counted acidly. – _Compensating, are we?_

"Don't bother," she waved her hand with a smile. "Let him look, that's what eyes are for."

He cleared his throat: "I understand that it is of no concern of mine, but I felt… compelled to warn you."

"It's alright. Always good to know someone's looking out for you," she knitted her brows in feigned anger, "But if even after _this_ you are not going to go and have some sleep, then I'll never forgive myself. Do you want that future for me?"

He smiled, making a step back, deeper into the cave, and bowed his head: "No, of course not."

"Then good night."

"As to you."

Following him with her eyes and making sure he truly was laying out his bedroll not far from the dead fire, Adele turned back to the entrance – but her gaze unwittingly lingered on the ranger. Bishop was the nearest to the exit, sleeping in a nearly sitting position, leaning his back on the stone wall, his arms resting over the blanket, free to grab the weapon thrown by his side within reach. His wolf curled himself into a ball right beside him, placing his head on the ranger's lap. The woman watched them for some moments, realizing that it would have been very much like Bishop not to sleep but listen to her conversation with the paladin. But judging by the way his eyes moved slightly under his lowered lids, he _was_ sleeping after all. Adele smiled, almsot relieved - but still couldn't banish the feeling of being watched in return. Blinking several times to awake a bit of her darkvision, hoping that no lightning would blind her, she finally noticed – even though being curled up, the wolf gazed at her from under his furry brows, watching her closely, guardedly, from Bishop's lap.

"…Sleep, you beastie," she whispered with a grin and turned back to the rain…


	21. XXI: Eye Witnessed 1

**XXI:** Eye-Witnessed (part one)

Adele nearly missed their arrival at Port Llast. One moment she was gliding through the heavy air, so damp and dense that the woman almost felt like she was back in the Mere - and the next instant they had already fell right into one of the narrow drowsy streets, as if wet stone houses simply popped out from the ground like mushrooms after the rain. But those were mushrooms that lacked the lulling grassy smell of forest or swamp, instead painted with the hint of fish, musty seaweeds and tar from the boats.

Clouded in the mist that had risen after the rain at night, the tiny port town was barely visible. Squeezed between Duskwood and the sea, nearly washed down by the night's pour, it appeared to be merely a medley of houses, merchant's tents and awnings protecting the cargo unloaded from the ships - all of the named architectural wonders looking like someone simply dropped them along the road without much thinking or planning.

The townsfolk were rare in the early hour, only a few of indiscernible figures wrapped in the mist. Muffled voices and snatches of conversations reached them, but it was impossible to make out the words. A lonely wagon dragged by just as lonely horse passed by, its wheels and the animal's hoofs shattering the surface of huge puddles, splashing the water and raining it on the cloaks of adventurers. Neeshka, still not fully awake, nearly got under the cart, if Adele hadn't caught her by the arm, jerking aside. The tiefling staggered away from the road, blinking around in sleepy confusion from under her hood, and shook herself from fading slumber. Adele followed the leaving cart with her eyes, the gloomy-looking driver glaring at her suspiciously in return, not slowing down to check if he hadn't trampled anyone else.

"Yeah, good morning to you,too, sir!" the woman yelled after him. "Be well today!"

The driver stirred the reins, hurrying his horse, but his glare didn't leave them until he completely passed by.

"Ah, Port Llast, illustrious and welcoming, as always", Sand observed.

"Charmed already," Adele muttered and sighed, almost helplessly. "You really think something or someone here can help us?"

"Haeromus is said to be vigilant of his people and surrounding lands," the elf shrugged, "so we have a chance of checking if it is true."

"Hells, I've stepped into something," Adele heard Neeshka's grouch. "…Ah, shit."

"What is it?" the woman glanced back over her shoulder.

Neeshka threw her a grim look: "Shit, like I said."

Khelgar chocked a laugh, while Sand just nodded, a bit more amused than before: "Yes, I suggest you watch where you step, my dear... you might get some more of local culture on your boots."

It was Adele's turn to swallow a chuckle, avoiding looking at Shandra, who gave her head an irritated shake: "Gods, Sand, you hold your nose so high it's a wonder you don't wear a hat on it."

"…I don't even know what that means, my dear," the elf answered in innocent serenity, "but I'm sure as far as your local expressions go, it's quite quaint -- and charmingly ignorant."

"Well, at least you can't catch shit on your hat," Neeshka sighed.

"Birds?" the dwarf mentioned.

"…Point."

"All points aside," Sand rounded in his usual soft but irrevocable manner, "the sooner we finish our business here, the better."

"Then let's not waste time arguing," Adele suggested with a sweet smile.

"Agreed," Qara grumbled, looking around with obvious distaste.

"Now that I think about it," Grobnar chimed in, also looking around and rocking on his heels with his common utterly misplaced enthusiasm, "the town indeed seems so much gloomier this early in the morning. Has something to do with the light, I guess. In daytime, the sunrays flicker so merrily over the sea surface…"

"You've _been_ here?" Qara clarified in disbelieving tone.

"Oh, only a time or four, on my way from Luskan."

"You've been to _Luskan_?" the girl's whole world seemed to be cracking to pieces.

"Yes," Grobnar's eyes grew wide. "I've never mentioned it? Oh, impossible! I've even managed to play for one of the High Captains – well, back when there _were_ High Captains. My step-uncle was hanged there. Not like he was the only one, in Luskan they like hanging people. And not only hanging, mind you. Sometimes they-"

"Grobnar," Elanee interrupted him softly, glancing shortly at Adele.

"No-no, let him go on," the woman grinned. "Knowing is… motivating."

The gnome blinked at them, puzzled: "But what there is to be worried about? Surely miss Adele has nothing to be afraid of, her innocence is as undeniable as Wendersnaven all-powerfulness."

"…And the irony of that statement is too obvious to be pointed out," Sand commented dryly, then gestured somewhere up the street. "So why won't we follow the planned line and start looking for _proofs_ of the undeniable? Haeromus' office is there."

"Asking some of the locals couldn't hurt, either," Shandra mentioned emphatically, still glaring in Sand's direction. "For all their 'local culture', I'm sure, they still have eyes and ears to have seen or heard anything."

"Maybe we should split up," Neeshka shrugged. "I mean, someone does this, someone does that, run around, ask people – it'll be quicker that way."

Adele nodded: "Yeah, I guess."

"Morning or not, the market should be opening already, so I can take the merchants on me, and--"

"Ya wish!" Khelgar gruffed, and Neeshka narrowed her eyes at him, their crimson colour seeming to flash more brightly in anger. "Wanna stealin' added to murder charges, huh? 've got my eyes on ya, fiendlin', warning ya!"

"_Fine_," she snapped. "I'm gonna sit right here, then, and won't do a crap, since stealing is the only thing that can obviously be on my mind. Would you tie my hands behind my back, Stumpy?"

The dwarf opened his mouth to answer, but wasn't able to, as Bishop's rusty voice cut its way impatiently through the conversation, his face just as annoyed:

"You lot can die and rot here if you want to, and I'll have a look around the town, check the border of the wood. If by chance the Luskans were here to cover their tracks, it'll be something there."

Adele took a second to breathe in to hold back something nasty to say in return to his tone. It seemed everyone was a bit on edge. Instead the woman simply nodded again: "Okay, reasonable enough."

"Well, at least someone in your exalted bunch _should_ be reasonable, eh?" he patted Karnwyr's neck, and the two of them took off towards the wood, followed by Casavir's grave stare.

"…He always needs to say the last word, doesn't he," Shandra shook her head and turned back towards Sand. "So?"

"Haeromus is our first stop," the elf said, eyeing the rest of them. Apparently, mutual irritation of the band didn't pass unnoticed by him, too. "As for the locals… they need a careful approach. It is highly possible that they are wary of every stranger - after all, Ember was not that far away. And, sadly, the most part of our group doesn't inspire trust from the first sight."

"How sweet of you to notice," Neeshka bristled, but Sand merely sighed:

"It is not an insult, my dear, but a harsh reality we, in our position, have to abide and take into consideration," he turned to Casavir, who tore his glare away from the direction where Bishop disappeared, and looked back at the elf questioningly. The wizard rubbed the tip of his long sharp nose in habitual gesture of consideration. "No issues on your account. Also… Elanee is the name, if I am not mistaken," the druidess only nodded assent. As far as Adele noticed, Elanee showed little to no interest in her city-dwelling race-kin, barely even trading words with him. "…And, I suppose, Grobnar looks sufficiently touching and harmless."

"Why, thank you," the gnome answered with a head-broad grin, unintentionally taking an _absolutely_ touching and harmless look.

"We'll try to find out what we can," Elanee assured and, looking quickly at Adele, gave her a small encouraging smile.

Qara jerked her chin up depreciatingly towards Sand: "And since when _he_ is in charge here?"

"Since the moment I have got into all this mess," Adele shrugged. "I admit I don't understand a thing about the stuff."

The elf bowed his head. "I'm glad at least someone admits," he mentioned lightly, making Qara snort dismissively. "I _occasionally_ have good ideas, you know."

"You just look at that," the sorceress sneered, "it wasn't even sarcasm, it was blunt truth."

"My, she stung me," the wizard smiled. "Good for you, dear girl, you can buy yourself a cookie. But _after_ we'll visit the most respected commandant," with that Sand turned his back to Qara, presuming he was finished with her, and ushered others up the damp street.

Adele followed, watching Casavir and Elanee turn towards the town centre, Grobnar between them, skipping to match their longer strides and still taking his time to gaze around. There was a considerable amount of sense in Sand's choice of the gnome for the task - his memory appeared to be as limitless and greedy for anything new as a magic bag of holding. But with the same problem: how to find and get out the single specific thing one needed.

…Reaching the only municipal building of Port Llast, one-storey and dull, which seemed to unite the administration, the prison, the watch post and what-not under one roof, they went up the worn-down stairs, only mildly slippery from the moisture. Two guards flanking the front door watched their arrival, both soldiers' faces poorly lit up by the half-dead torch. Adele slowed her pace, suddenly having a feeling that the guards were watching them _too_ intently, but had no time to ponder over her concern, for one of the soldiers took a step forward, and his gloved hand landed flatly on Sand's chest, stopping the elf in his place:

"You are not allowed in."

"We are," Sand answered, not arguing – simply stating.

The guard jerked his head to the others behind the wizard. "_She_ is not to come in."

"Hey, I'm-" Neeshka snarled, but he cut her off with a wince:

"Not you. The _murderer_."

Adele sucked in a sharp breath, cautious enough for this motion not to be too obvious, and, as the guard glared at her, fought to keep her face calm and easy, glancing at Qara by her side with a 'whom-does-he-mean' look. It was stupid, she figured, but it was all she could come up with. They couldn't have known her. Just couldn't. The name of the supposed murderer – surely, but to attach a name to a face one must _know_ the face. Which was impossible.

Wasn't it?

"By whose order?" Sand wondered, his eyes fixed firmly on the soldier, his composed nasal voice neither faltering nor pitching up for a tiniest bit, despite the restrictive palm still keeping him in place.

The guard scowled down on him: "Someone needs an order for common sense? No murderers will cross the threshold. Period."

"This is ridiculous," Shandra snapped. "She hadn't done anything!"

"Too funny, wench."

Adele felt Khelgar brush past her, his whole sturdy figure drawing forward in a threatening battle-ready stance:

"Ya lettin' us in, lads, or we ar lettin' us in arselves."

"Really?" the soldier growled in response. His smaller comrade moved closer to him, his hand already gripping the hilt of the sheathed longsword.

_Gods, guys, don't do anything…_- Adele groaned inwardly, realizing that if she said a thing, the mere sound of her voice could light the fuse of the soldier.

"Dramatic as it is," the wizard interfered, "this showdown will have to wait, I'm afraid, until we finish our urgent matters with your superior."

The palm on his chest curled into a fist, grabbing and crumpling the front of his robes.

"Are you deaf, elf? Ears too pointy or what?"

"…Firstly," Sand filtered, keeping his gaze firmly on the guard's enraged face, his voice like liquid ice, "I am very fond of this robe and there surely is no reason for depriving me of it." Hesitantly, but the soldier let go of him, earning a thin smile that snaked across the elf's lips. "Secondly, whatever charges are preferred against this totally innocent girl, no one will call her a murderer unless the court states so – which won't happen, believe me," as no objections came, Sand nodded and went on: "Thirdly, your commander is the one to decide who is to cross any thresholds and who is not. And since we are intending to go straight into his hands – nothing stops him from throwing us out if he intends to, hmm?"

The guard stared at him, his jaw working in anger as he thought over anything he could say in return.

"He's right, Berth," his fellow said quietly, not really thrilled with the fact, but apparently having no desire to mingle with rules.

"Very well," Berth ground out, following them with his glare as their band made its way between him and his comrade. Adele saw his eyes rest on her for a second, but he averted them, as if the simple sight of her was sickening to him, and glowered instead at Neeshka who happened to pass him at the moment. "But you just try anything…"

The tiefling rolled her eyes, "Gee, I'm sure your being out _here_ and not inside has nothing to do with your winning personality."

Adele grinned despite herself, hearing Qara's laughter behind her back. As Neeshka's deft fingers closed around her elbow in silent encouragement, the woman squeezed them in return gratefully, stepping into the Haeromus' office…

* * *

…_**the killer looks like you**__**, but isn't…**_

The boy's words echoed in her ears as she stalked out of the building, peering into space, only by some miracle not stumbling over the stairs. The boy himself wasn't here, no matter how much they expected him to be.

Alaine was.

Adele had seen many scary and to some extent even terrifying things in her relatively short life. But most of them paled in comparison to those swollen red-rimmed eyes, primal fear and raw hatred in them merging with tears that simply didn't wish to stop, flowing and flowing and _flowing_ down the girl's cheeks…

She fled. Just turned around and strode back into the street, leaving Sand questioning the witness, Shandra – to calm her, to do anything she simply could not… Her every step hit through the whole leg, stiff, as if her knees turned to stone, unable to bend anymore.

…_**looks like you…**_

The woman sank on the masonry of the staircase, covering her face with her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her closed eyes, nearly _digging_ them into eye-sockets, like it could rub away Alaine's gaze from her memory. The gaze that was sure it gaped at the killer.

They stole her _face_. Not only her name to cover what they have done, to frame her, no… they took her face, her whole appearance, and some godsdamned assassin stretched it on him or herself as if a _suit_. In that light how pathetic her words sounded, when she was trying to tell it wasn't her. Because it _was_. It was _her_ hand that clutched the weapon, _her_ arm swishing it to chop off the head of the quartermaster begging on his knees, it was _her_ eyes that looked down on him, and _her_ blasted face was the last thing he saw… And who could expect Alaine to believe a single word that came out of _her_ mouth…?

A viscous lump of nausea rolled up her throat, and, without taking her hands from her eyes, Adele breathed in greedily, swallowing the air to push the retch back down, then let the breath out in a slow quiet wheeze. She repeated the process several times, until the beating of pulse in her ears and temples faded from the deafening drum-like cadence to fairly normal. Waiting a couple of moments just to make sure, the woman finally unglued her palms, feeling the tingle of red pressure-marks that were left encircling her eyes, and stared at her hands, almost expecting to find tears on them. But her calloused skin was dry.

Had they taken it, too? Her every sore, every scratch, every line…? Or settled only to 'look like'… Sand told Alaine there were many magics that allowed one to cloud their appearance or change shape. How? Was some part of her needed for that? Her hair, drop of blood, piece of skin? Or was it enough to _know_ what she was like? Had they watched her? Followed her? Or used some scrying spell? Or was it simply someone who already _knew_…? Knew her, looked at her, shadowed her…?

…_**I do not like the way he looks at you…**_

_Don't be stupid, Del__ly, before you decided that you were framed by your long-dead mother._

…_But how…?_

_Does that matter? It already happened. You've made the mistake of underestimating them. Don't do it again. Simply don't. Leave 'how' to Sand. Deal with what you've got._

Taking another breath, she lowered her hands, settling them on her knees, and closed her eyes again, lifting her face towards the sky. Cynically enough, the day had brightened, and the sun shone through her shut lids, making them glow with red against the eyes.

_Now that's better__._

Screwing her eyes even tighter, the woman rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, as slowly as possible, trying to ease the tension, and felt her spine loose a bit of its stiffness. Already good. Even her mind didn't feel like a caged bird anymore. Or, at least, this caged bird stopped flaying around in panic and started pecking methodically at her cage in search of weak spots.

"Tell me something," she heard the already familiar voice of the guard from behind her and winced at being distracted. She could care less for what he wanted, but she had a face to keep and innocence to be proved, so like a good polite little squire Adele turned her head, enough to see him out of the corner of her eye:

"Yes?"

He stared at her, firmly, with contempt and disgust that was nearly as revolting as Alaine's gaze. Nearly. "Why?"

'_I didn't do it,'_ was probably the correct respond, but it was pointless, wasn't it? Instead she looked back at her hands, expecting to find them shaking. No, her fingers lay dead-still on her knees.

"You know," the soldier continued in the same dismayed voice, not waiting for her to answer, "we've got a chap here, in patrol. Dan is the name. He is from Ember… had his family there… mother, father, little sister…"

Adele folded her cold fingers, not tearing her eyes off them. "I'm sorry for his loss," she said, some part of her startled by how calm her voice sounded.

"Sure you are," he inhaled sharply through his nose, before finally spitting: "I just hope you'll get what you deserve."

_So do I__… _

His glare was burning through her back, but Adele didn't look at him anymore. Summoning all those drops of elven blood she had, the woman smoothed her face and hooded her eyes, allowing numbing coolness of reverie – or that shadow of it she was capable of – wash over her, until, much to her relief, she felt how even the slightest echo of her short convulsion of panic faded away.

The only feeling left was fury. Slow freezing fury that turned over in her mind, crawled through her every blood-vessel, clawed at her every nerve…

_And I will__… _

The doors to the building opened, and Adele heard heavy bulky footsteps that could only belong to Khelgar, accompanied by barely audible whisper of Neeshka's soft soles.

"Watcha glarin' at?!" the dwarf growled, probably at Berth, and Adele felt the corners of her lips quirk up in a faint unintentional smile. "Ya mind yers boots an' leave ar lassie alone!"

"H-hey," the tiefling squatted at the woman's side as they both rounded her. "You okay?" Adele looked at her, and the rogue grinned apologetically, "I know it's stupid to ask, but still…"

"…I'm fine," Adele shrugged, squinting at the sun, then decided it would be better to make the statement more truthful: "At least, I will be. Just… kinda got used to at least being kissed before I got fucked." Neeshka let out a surprised chuckle at her humourless joke, while Khelgar simply blinked, for the first time hearing her swear aloud. Adele smiled at him, "Pardon my orcish."

The door banged opened again, this time followed by the resolute rhythmic clatter of Qara's threaded-down heels.

"You've missed the most intriguing part," she informed Adele, stopping near her, and the woman couldn't help but grin at how nicely Qara's always-irritated and constantly-displeased voice blazed against the chill inside of her. "Where she said how, after being close enough to identify you, she managed to run away, while a whole dozen of killers was, probably, just standing there with their thumbs shoved up their asses."

"Bah, have a heart!" the dwarf barked at the girl.

"What?" Qara snorted. "It's a story worthy of Grobnar's making, and if she doesn't see that - well, everyone else does."

"Guess she had no time or wish to analyze what had happened to her," Adele muttered, letting her hands fall from her knees, moving them backwards on the stone parapet and dropping her weight on them, her every gesture way too slow and conscious. _Calm down_. She cocked her head back to look at the girl, meeting both pale green eyes of Qara and small black beads of her weasel peeking from under her collar. Adele winked at Tamin, smiling again. "And, really, no reason to be so harsh on Grobnar."

"Yeah, sure," Qara shook her head in exasperation.

Still smiling, Adele looked back at the doors, just in time to see Sand coming out. Noticing her sitting, the elf made his way towards the woman, some irritated rigidity marring his usually graceful movements.

"My dear," his voice was cold, totally devaluating the last word. "You…"

"…are a moron, yes, I know. Should have got a hold on my nerves better. Not that it matters anymore, so… what did she say?"

Sand frowned, ignoring her question, his thin lips pursing into firm disapproving line: "Unfortunately for both of us, it _does_ matter. And I would ask you to consider your behaviour more carefully next time before darting off like that. We have enough on our hands with accusations and many commoners thinking you _are_ guilty – so bear in mind that giving something to ground their suspicions is the last thing you need right now."

Adele shrugged: "Suppose I can go back and apologize, but somehow I don't think I'll be that good for it to work."

"…While your self-irony is adorable," one could probably cut mithral with his voice, "_I _fully intend to get you acquitted – and will do so, even if _you_ don't seem to want it. Matter of professional pride, if nothing else."

"For gods' sake, leave her be, Sand," Neeshka snapped, but the wizard paid no heed to her, looking down solely on Adele.

The woman held his stare easily, just as she would have put up with anything he could say to her. Maybe she should have been grated by his pragmatism – but one doesn't live with Daeghun Farlong for twenty-four years without getting immune to such attitude. Besides, it was exactly Sand's pragmatism and razor-sharp mind she put her stakes on.

"I'm sorry, Sand," she said softly, but never lowered her gaze. "It won't happen again. But, really, I figured my leaving was better than if I started jumping and screaming how innocent I am." She allowed herself an unsure smile, "Or had I killed myself already?"

"…Not yet, luckily," the elf answered, but his anger seemed to be replaced back by his common indulgent attitude towards her, and Adele had to suppress a sigh of relief. Commoners, soldier and even witnesses could go to the Hells, but good graces of her lawyer she didn't want to lose. Blackmailed or not.

"Good, then. I'll play nice from now on, I promise," she pursed her lips, surreptitiously licking them nervously from the inside, then finally added: "But in return I want to know who did it."

Sand raised his brows, half in amusement, half in incomprehension, "And you don't?"

Adele winced: "I know 'bout Garius – but I doubt he was the one to soil himself like that, so the Hells with him… for now, at least. I want to know the one who acted me. The one whose _hand_ did it."

"Ah, the executor, you mean," his eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion: "What for?"

Near her shoulder Khelgar snorted, the answer obviously pretty clear to him, but the woman merely shrugged: "Just to know." Glancing at Qara, she grinned, "Yeah, so we could burn him to the Hells!"

"Mwahaha," the girl mocked, lifting her chin. "You just wait until you _really_ need me to destroy something down – then you might hear the answer you won't like."

"…Sorry," Adele tucked her forehead into the sorceress' knees contritely.

But her little bravado and light-hearted tone apparently hadn't fooled Sand, as he was still watching her closely.

"Taking out any revenge right now doesn't count as 'playing nice'," he remarked. "And bloodlust, even if it seems deserved, won't do you a favour in your position."

"Well, that's for me to decide, isn't it?"

"No. For me. That's what I am here for in the first place."

"…Damn you, Sand," she grinned, "you know, you sound almost like my father."

"Then he is undoubtedly a very wise and foreseeing man."

That was the last straw, and she laughed - the sound not really for her liking, appearing raspy and nearly metallic, but it was a laugh after all. Neeshka snickered quietly, Khelgar grinned amidst his beard, Qara simply rolled her eyes in her eternal 'why me?' to the heavens.

"Undoubtedly," Adele finally managed, biting the corners of her mouth to calm down.

Sand put his hand in the air, stopping any other words, loose silken sleeve of his robe rustling quietly as it flowed around his slender arm: "One thing at a time. Let us clean your name – then you can splash it all over again, if that is your intention. But at least _I _won't be risking my neck to the good lords of Neverwinter."

"Coward," Qara concluded triumphally.

"Hold there," Adele smirked, preventing Sand from getting into another argument and regaining his attention. "You are saying you _can_ find the executer?"

"Now you are just being plainly insulting, my dear," the wizard pretended to take offence, but his self-pleased elusive smile ruined it. "Of course it's possible. Especially if Haeromus is to be believed – which I think he _is_ in the issues involved – as he revealed the tiny little circle we've been wondering about."

"…Which is?"

"Torio _is _working for Garius. In fact, she is considered one of his most loyal followers…"

"Snaky bitch," Neeshka whispered.

"…together with another individual, a muscle of Garius of sorts. Since Garius himself is out of our reach for now, we can check these two – and, perhaps, the treads will lead us to those who carried out the destruction order."

"Ta me it sounds just as sneaky as they did," Khelgar grumbled, his gauntleted palm tracing the hilt of the axe hanging on the belt.

"For _now_ it plays no role anyway," Sand pointed out.

"Fine by me," Adele nodded, content. "And who's the second of the gruesome-twosome?"

"Lorne is the name. Some brute, I suppose – there's no shortage of _those_ in the city."

The woman nodded again, privately pondering over another Fate's joke that gave a Luskan scum _that_ name - the name of a man, the _fine_ man, who had been dead for years.

But any thoughts she had were banished, as the last of her companions went out of the building onto the stairs – and Adele felt her heart sink. Shandra's eyes were empty as she stared underfoot while walking, feverish blush colouring her cheeks in stark contrast with the whole face which grew paler than sour milk.

"How's Alaine?" Adele asked, and the blonde woman gave a slight start, raising her gaze to the rest of them, as if suddenly remembering about their presence on the plane, then jerked her shoulders in a shrug.

"Like crap," she stated flatly, but her voice gave a deceitful crack at the end, while her eyes, on impulse, darted towards the doors, towards the girl left behind them. Adele didn't know for how long and how well had the two women known each other, but she couldn't recall any other time the short-tempered and sometimes even brusque farmer was so gentle with anybody. Turning back, Shandra shot an angry glance at Sand. "And next time better take _him_ with you, if leaving."

The elf half-closed his eyes wearily, as Shandra's words were clearly the continuation of an argument that had already taken place before. "We do not have the whole year, my dear," he sighed. "And I cannot be patient when the trail of the criminals gets cold".

"What's wrong?" Adele wondered, not really sure she wanted to know.

"Have you even _seen_ her?!" Shandra snapped at Sand. "The state she is in?! You and your questions…! She's just survived the massacre of her town, saw her friends and neighbours slaughtered! How can anyone…?" she turned to Adele for support, but her voice trailed off in confused understanding as the other woman answered with a grim smile.

"…Yeah, it's horrible, have my word on that," Adele agreed.

…_Had I cried this much? Hells, I don't remember… Probably not, had too many stuff dumped on me that night…_

"Still," Sand gave voice, "we managed to falter her in her testimony… If we can get her to work for us, her story of tears will sway the court in our favour."

"Yer kiddin', elf?" Khelgar wondered. "The lass got scared out of her mind jest from seein' us."

_Well, __to think about it, that's exactly why it shouldn't be much of a challenge, - _Adele glanced shortly at the doors leading inside. - _She's frightened and confused… Just one tiny push in the right direction…_

"She's not some… tool, Sand!" Shandra snarled, crashing all Adele's musings. "Leave her alone!"

"Girl," the wizard drawled coldly, "if we do not use your friend, the Luskans will. And they will use her testimony to kill our friend sitting_ here_."

The blonde woman's eyes narrowed: "Don't you dare making me choose between things like that!"

"Sometimes you have to. So please, dispense for the time with your _convenient_ morality".

"Convenient? _Convenient_?!!" she threw her hands in the air. "Well, fine! Let's do it! Like there's no other way! Why would we even look for it, huh?! Why should we, when we can simply step all over the little people! It's so much _quicker_, isn't it?"

"I swear," Neeshka muttered under her breath, "I'll strangle that shrill harpy one day."

"Stop," Adele reached up for Shandra's arm, grabbing her elbow firmly, then looked at Sand. "There's no point arguing about it at the moment, anyway. We haven't seen Ember yet. We haven't done _anything_ yet. Might not even need her testimony if the clues would be in our favour," seeing Sand shake his head in tired disapproval, she added, "Or, with enough evidence, we can make her see the truth of what happened. Then no forcing would be needed."

"There _is _no arguing, my dear," Sand responded. "Just want to make sure we are aware of _every_ possible turn."

"Well, now we surely are," she nodded with a smile and looked back at Shandra, who closed her eyes and dropped her head, rolling her hands into desperate fists. Adele eased her hold on the farmer to rub her arm soothingly. "See? It's gonna be alright."

"…It's just…" Shandra's voice fell to barely audible whisper. "It's just so… I had hard time believing it happened _at all_, and now…" she wiped the back of her hand mercilessly against her eyes.

…_Hells, I'm the one wandering under gallows – and still I'm the one to calm and comfort everybody?_

"Oh, look," Qara snorted with her habitual sarcastic joy, "more good news is coming."

Three figures approached from the thinning mist. Indeed, the faces of companions sent to ask the locals indicated that the knowledge they received was far from being pleasant. At least, faces of Casavir and Elanee.

"Well, miss Adele," Grobnar spread his hands in mock wonderment, "you seem to be more famous than most of the bards I know."

"…Damn," the woman breathed out, looking at others. "Are my looks that well-known around already?"

"I'm afraid so," Casavir confirmed. "The crime was horrible. The townspeople are scared. Not only of the slaughter, but of the meaning behind it. They are afraid that what happened at Ember might cause another war."

…_No way in the Hells will I have _a war_ on my conscience…_

Sand crossed his arms, hiding his hands in the folds of his robe, "Anything else apart from the political observations?"

"There is a witness," Elanee said with sudden bitter irony, so unlike her, "a man called Elgun. He claims he was there during the attack _and_ even tried to stop the murderers."

Adele couldn't help but chuckle grimly: "Dammit, am I the only one who _hadn't_ been there?"

"No," the druidess shook her head, "He hadn't either. We were warned that the man constantly lies about this or that heroic deed he happens to perform only when no one is around."

Sand shrugged: "When the lie is repeated many times, people start to believe it. And if _too_ many times – even the liar himself believes it. My word is that we see this gentleman and make sure he doesn't rave of something potentially dangerous to us."

"Elgun is a regular patron of the local inn," Casavir said. "I suppose we can find him there."

"Sounds like a plan," Adele concluded with a smile, pushing herself off the masonry and jumping down on the ground. The parapet, though, appeared lower than she thought, so her landing ended up being clumsier and less carefree than she intended.

Grobnar, who was watching her all the time, cocked his head to the shoulder: "You look angry, miss Adele."

_Damn…_

"I _am_ angry, Grobnar," she said evenly, adjusting her cloak. "But that's not important now. Where's this tavern? Can get some gossips there as well."

…_and wine…_

"Right," Neeshka gave her a clap on the back, just a tad more hard than it should have been were the tiefling indeed optimistic. But nonetheless, Neeshka grinned as they headed down the street. "And if the innkeeper is half as bad as Duncan, we won't have much problems with gossips, bet my last coin on that. All we'll have to do is -"

"You there!" sharp male voice stopped them in mid-step.

They all turned around, but Adele didn't need a divination to guess that the voice was addressing _her_.

Another soldier, much younger, almost a boy, with summer freckles still sowing his face, pushed his way between the nearby merchant tents, followed closely by a couple of his comrades. Whether they tried to catch up with him or stop him, Adele couldn't tell – but his blazing glare was indeed fixed on her.

"…Dan, I suppose," the woman sighed, suddenly feeling how bloody _exhausted_ she was.

The man stopped for a second, stunned, but immediately pressed further, his sword at ready. Casavir and Khelgar already moved forward, the dwarf reaching for his axe, the paladin shielding Adele with himself.

"What do you want?" Adele asked, simply for the sake of saying something, not because she didn't know the answer.

"What do we want?" the soldier echoed with a bitter laugh. "We want to pay you back for Ember."

"I didn't do it."

"Oh, do forgive me that I don't believe a thing that falls out of your mouth, bitch!"

"Ya watch _yer_ mouth!" Khelgar growled.

"That's no concern of you," Dan spat at him and stared back at Adele.

"Gentlemen, please," Sand drawled, sounding almost exasperated. "You are no judges. Whoever gave you the right to fulfill _their_ duties? I don't think your commander would approve of arbitrariness."

"For all I care about his approval!"

"My, that smells of a tribunal, soldier."

"Does it? What if I'm going to arrest her for… disturbing the peace?" his face twisted into a grin, more of a grimace, distorted in its desperation. "She'll put up resistance, and we'll be forced to kill her."

"And if I won't?" Adele wondered.

"You will."

"Yeah?" the woman reached for her belt, clasping off her scabbard and throwing it to Grobnar standing nearest to her. The gnome caught it with a completely confused look, but didn't move away, and Adele shifted her stance a bit, knowing she would be able to grab the rapier in an eyewink if needed, but hoping her bluff would be enough to end this. "Go ahead."

"Are you all idiots?" Qara sniffed, eyeing the soldiers, who obviously hesitated. "Or you can't count that high to see that you are outnumbered?"

"I don't care," Dan hissed. "I had family in Ember!"

"You think they would have wanted you to become a murderer?" Casavir asked.

"Wh-?" the young soldier glared at him, and his mouth curled downwards in disdain. "Well, I'll be damned. A _paladin_! What is a paladin doing by her side?"

"This woman is innocent, and I for one have not a single doubt about that."

"…Is she? Then why in the Hells does everyone claim she is the one responsible?!" his eyes darted between them, rage blending with uncertainty, enough for Adele to feel sorry for him.

But not sorry enough to lie on the ground and let him gut her on spot.

"Believe me when I say that no one is as pissed by it as I am," she filtered.

"Whoever is responsible," Casavir added, looking at the soldier, "they will answer for it. But not this woman. Not today and not by _your_ force."

"And you promise me that, paladin?" Dan's glare drilled him to his bones. "Do you swear upon the name of your god that his justice will be served?!"

His face as calm as a stone, Casavir inclined his head curtly, and Adele cast her eyes upwards, on the sky, for a brief second overwhelmed by irrational fear that a lightning was going to strike her companion down. None came.

…_Okay, Tyr, I'm going to hold you on your word, too._

"Your grief is strong," the paladin's voice was deep and strangely seizing. "But it will ebb away in time." He nodded at the soldiers flanking Dan, "You still have those who are close to you. Do not trouble the souls of your beloved ones with blood of innocent spilled in their name."

Dan swallowed, hard, and made a step back, acrid tears shadowing his gaze.

"Fine," he said - almost snarled – and turned abruptly on his heels, leaving their band in the middle of the street.

"…Idiot," Qara muttered.

Casavir closed his eyes, rubbing his lids. "It is sad to see how pain can turn one into a blind beast."

"…Yeah," Adele answered, following Dan with her eyes and realizing, that were it her and were she as certain of someone's guilt – she would have attacked anyway.

"This is getting harder than I thought," Sand admitted quietly. He hadn't lost a tiniest bit of his composure during the encounter, but it didn't escape Adele how he rubbed the tips of his fingers together, quelling several sparkles of a prepared spell.

The woman smiled, suddenly caught in the image of Torio Claven in her lavish dress thrown to these soldiers to find her way out with her snake-tongue. Indeed, with every second that passed, Bishop's suggestion of killing the ambassador seemed more and more appealing.

"Whoever did this," she whispered, fetching her blade back from Grobnar, "I swear, I'll rip _his_ face off with my bare hands…"

"Aye, lass," Khelgar said quietly, patting her arm. "And I'll hold him fer ya."

Neeshka, who managed to sneak away towards the merchant's tents sometime during the skirmish, now came back, squeezing a broad-brim hat of soft grey leather in her hands.

"Here," she handed it to Adele.

"…What's this about?" the woman arched her brow at the present.

"Well, since your description is that world-famous…" she gestured at her head. "Sorry, but with _your_ hair it's really hard to make a mistake."

"…Right. Hadn't thought about it. Thanks," she closed her eyes. "Gods, it's so disgusting…"

With a heavy sigh she pulled the hat on, tucking her tail and locks that broke loose under the brims, then looked back at Neeshka – noticing the rogue's hood firmly in place, covering her horns carefully.

"…Yup," the tiefling smirked sadly at her gaze. "Welcome to our club."

Without much thinking, Adele reached for her, dragging Neeshka into a tight embrace, almost squashing her and ignoring the looks of others – bewildered, sad, sympathetic, understanding… Neeshka gave a startled yelp at the strength of her hug, but didn't break loose, after a second of hesitation giving Adele an awkward stroke on the back.

"Thank you," the woman muttered, stepping away.

"Anytime," the tiefling shrugged, smiling slightly, then tilted her head appraisingly and, lifting her hand, turned the brim of the hat upwards on one side. "There. Find a feather, tuck it here – and it'll be even sort of fancy."

"Oh, I'll be sure to do that," she grinned, then glanced around the street, not paying attention to the merchants and commoners eyeing them. "Alright, where's the tavern and that 'hero' who tried to stop me in my despicable crime?"


	22. XXII: Eye Witnessed 2

**XXII**: Eye-Witnessed (part two)

They found the 'Alliance Arms Inn' at the very edge of the town, near the road leading away, through Duskwood and further north – to Luskan. Casavir and Khelgar stayed outside, near the entrance, to keep an eye out in case some more of the local soldiers decided to enforce a mob law. Grobnar, for reasons, as always, known only to him, joined them, muttering something under his breath, at times raising his voice to address Khelgar – much to the displeasure of the dwarf. The others entered.

The day was still young, so the establishment appeared nearly empty. Yet, despite the low number of patrons, the only real acknowledgement their manifold heavily-packed band got was from a young dark-haired woman, who occupied one of the armchairs in front of the lit fire. Adele couldn't help but stiffen when their eyes met, wondering if the woman was aware of who she was, if the hat would fool her – but the stranger's gaze didn't linger on her, idly slipping over the rest of her companions and instead locked on to Elanee, filled with mild surprise.

_Whew… _- Adele felt a smile come to her lips, and, unable to hold it back, at least did her best to keep it only a slight smirk. _– Thank the gods for elven druids in tattered robes that look more startling than girls in stupid hats._

The hat was a bother. It took Adele about several seconds to develop strong dislike for it. Not only she didn't enjoy the feeling of her head being encircled, but the damned thing also cut off the upper half of her field of vision. She hadn't even known she _needed_ the view that much, until was deprived of it, only then realizing how much uncomfortable she was without fully asserting her surroundings – in her quandary, a possible battleground. Casavir, Khelgar and other armour-clad warriors could allow themselves a luxury of relying on pure strength, but she preferred to be aware of every tiny bit of the interior that might come in handy. After all, a ceiling beam within jumping reach was a good way of escaping a hit.

Her thoughts were shattered by burst of voices coming from the counter, and she only briefly noticed the woman in the armchair throw an annoyed glance over her shoulder in the same direction, before staring herself. There, surrounded by other patrons, sat a red-faced bearded man, relating a story of his in a very loud tone, accompanied by wild gestures.

"Something tells me we've found Elgun," Sand nodded at him. "We'd better listen - though, I admit, I do feel sorry for my ears."

Adele eyed the braggart, his face swollen and sweaty from all the drinking and boasting, and felt her desire of having anything to do with him fade away as easily as morning mist - together with the idea of pouring something 'warming' into herself.

_That's how people should raise children into decent persons: enough to say that if you lie and drink too much, you'll end up being like him._

"Not sure I want to listen to _his_ version of what happened," she muttered. "It'll surely make me loose any marbles I have left. I'd better go and have a word with the owner. You, guys, suit yourself."

Leaving her companions near the counter, the woman strolled along the room, looking around from under the brims of her hat, until she spotted her target behind the table near the far wall. The innkeeper appeared to be a tall sturdy man, grim-looking – or plainly sleepy - with large nose and tired eyes, which flickered despite their weariness as the woman came up to him.

"Good day," Adele smiled.

He smiled in return quite easily: "Welcome there, miss. What can I do for you? We've got plenty of spare rooms and-"

"Um, no, thank you."

"Shame," he sighed. "The sight of you would have made a nice change from drunken sailors".

Her smile grew more sincere at the artless compliment. "My companions and I are here from Neverwinter. We're investigating murders in Ember."

The owner nodded dolefully, his face turning grave once again. "I see… Spoke to Haeromus already?"

"The first thing", she reached for her belt-pouch, fishing out a golden coin, and flashed it to him briefly before dropping on the table. "Have _you_ heard anything that might help?"

He shook his head. "Only the rumors, miss – they are not worth _that_ much."

"Yet still."

"Well, let's think," he elbowed on the table, rolling the coin over its splintered wooden surface, then swept the gold into his pocket. "The folk say it could have been some beasts from Duskwood responsible. To tell the truth, that's what I'm inclined to believe the most – after all, gods know what lives there. A couple of years ago even had werewolves there," Adele nodded, asserting his words, but not stopping from further guesses. At least, it was refreshing to meet a soul who was more inclined to blame mindless beasts of the deed than ponder on how capable were humans of the same. "_Then_ there was a very sneaky woman from Luskan, sniffing around. She said it was some adventuring party that had killed everyone – for nothing, you know, just to giggle," he flinched, clearly disdainful towards such an assumption.

"Did she," Adele muttered coldly. _A fast walker, aren't you, Torio?_

"Ah, drop it, miss," the innkeeper shook his head. "Nothing but lies comes from Luskan if you ask me. I wouldn't even be surprised to find out _their_ patrols were the ones who had done it. Yes, exactly only to giggle," he sighed heavily, then suddenly made a very expressive gesture towards the counter. "And, of course, Elgun saw everything. In addition to all the dragons he slew in his life. Six, at the very least. Don't mind him, miss," he added as they exchanged understanding glances. "He can barely handle a sword, let alone use it against anybody," he thought a bit, then shrugged. "Apart from that, I'm afraid, there's nothing I can help you with."

Nodding absently, Adele looked around once more, until her gaze rested on the dark-haired woman again. She had gone back to watching the fire, her face detached and thoughtful, as if, in her mind, she tried hard to abstract herself from the surroundings. But it wasn't her face that drew Adele's attention – more her utterly practical gear, her shabby leathers of faded brown and soiled boots that had clearly seen many roads not so long ago. She wasn't wearing a cloak and had no pack on her, but Adele was ready to bet that all of those could be found in one of the rooms upstairs. Probably together with some weapons as well as camping and hunting equipment.

"Who is this ranger?" she asked the owner.

"Oh, it's Malin. Comes to Port Llast every now and then. Mostly sticks to Duskwood, along the Luskan border. Actually, _she_ may tell you something useful – she returned only couple of days before."

"Yes, just what I thought," Adele nodded him at parting. "Thank you again."

"No troubles, miss. Do what I can."

Gracing him with a final smile, she came up to the fireplace. Hearing approaching footsteps, the woman called Malin lifted her head, regarding Adele with an attentive, almost guarded gaze of coal-dark eyes. Her face, slightly weathered by constant being out in the open air, was still quite nice-looking – though its comeliness was a bit marred by the too firm line of her lips pursed tightly. And only now, coming this close to her, Adele noticed that her ears, bared by her long hair plaited into a loose braid, were slightly pointed, and her features bore a telltale fox-like refinement – much like that Adele observed in the mirror.

_My,_ - she thought with unexpectedly lightened amusement, - _so you were not the only human to look for elven treats, Mom… _

"…Yes?" Malin wondered slowly, and Adele blinked, realizing she's been staring mutely at the woman for several moments already.

"Well met," she answered a bit awkwardly.

"…Well enough, I suppose," the half-elf – the second one apart from Duncan she had ever met in her life - moved one of her shoulders in a shrug, then eyed Adele from head to toes. "You are no local."

"From Neverwinter."

Her brows furred as her gaze rested on the woman's cloak. "City Watch? Haven't been in Neverwinter for several months – what have I done?"

"Nothing, I hope. I'm investigating what happened in Ember."

"Ah," Malin sniffed without any humour. "What's there to investigate? The village is destroyed, everyone's killed - by beasts or brigands or gods know what else... No investigation would bring them back to life," she stared back at Adele. "But then… Heard rumors it was one of you, people, that got accused of the deed."

_Oh, niiiiiiiiice…_

"Yes, there are such rumors," Adele nodded evasively. "All the more reasons to right the wrongs."

"…Right. Wonder if you would even bothered if it wasn't one of your ranks in hot water," the ranger smirked, but Adele decided not to answer. At least, aloud. _Probably not, honey… probably not_. "Wait… I'm not a suspect, am I?"

"Was just wondering if you happened to come across something."

"No, why would I. Was deep in the woods when it happened," she fell silent, looking into space, then frowned slightly. "…Though when I was passing, in the south-east, at the foot of hills – I spied a column of smoke rising from the ridge. Could have been from a campfire – there's a cave up there, just above the Grove. Maybe they saw something. Who knows, it's only an hour's walk from Ember," she winced and rubbed her thigh.

"…Something wrong?"

"No, just was hunting, and a dire hog caught me with his tusk, that appeared harder than my bone. It's why I'm here at all – patching up," Malin sighed with obvious displeasure at her predicament, but shrugged it off. "Anyway, check that cave if you want to. Though, if they were some travellers, they had probably left already. And if someone lives there…" another dry dismissive sniff that sounded strangely familiar, "then they are crazy and won't be of use, I guess."

"We'll see," Adele concluded absently, peering into Malin's face, a bit unsettled by the dim familiarity in the ranger's cutting demeanor, then shook her head. "…I'm sorry, have we met?"

It was a useless question – she would have surely remembered another half-elf.

Malin regarded her with a long scrutinizing gaze, part of previous suspicion flowing back into it, then shrugged: "If we had, you wouldn't have asked, I suppose. Why?"

"…Nothing," she cleared her throat, "Well, thanks for the help."

"Anytime, watchman. I would have led you to the cave, but…" she waved at her damaged leg, "not in the nearest tenday, that's for sure."

"It's not necessary, really…"

"Yeah?" she chuckled, somehow sadly. "I'm stuck in here for several days already with the injure – trust me, for me getting out _is_ necessary," Adele smiled sympathetically, when Malin frowned, glaring shortly at Elgun, who gave way to a particularly noisy exclamation. "By the gods, will anyone shut the fool up already? It must be the _fifth_ time by now he's telling how he fought demons in Ember."

"Demons?" Adele echoed with a chuckle, earning a wry smirk in response:

"Yes. Just another day for him, isn't it?"

"That's just ridiculous."

"You tell him."

"But-"

Someone's fingers flicked the brim of her hat from below, almost making it fall off her head, and Adele gave a start, barely managing to catch it.

"Nice hat, princess," Bishop sneered, coming around from behind her, and leaned on the back of Malin's chair with his elbow, not bothering to notice the chair was occupied. She couldn't help but to observe that the flaring irritation had left him somewhere along his scouting trip, cooling down to caustic indifference.

_Should kick him out scouting more frequently, it does him good._

Seeing that he was ready to make further comments about her head-dress, Adele just smiled coldly: "Don't even bother, I hate it myself."

His eyes slid over her face, searching for something, until met hers again. "Why, then?" that had to be the most acrid compassionate tone Adele had ever heard. "Put up with something you _hate._"

_Speaking of yourself, ranger__?_

"…Saw anything?" she asked instead patiently.

"That you left the paladin outside," he smirked. "Good, that's the very place for a dog."

"…Anything _useful_?"

"No, nothing to entertain Your Highness with at the moment," he answered in his usual lazy drawl. "Just that the way through Duskwood might be harder than you expected."

"Why?" she frowned, any tease draining from her voice.

"The deer are gone. Quite a few herds moved to the north recently, judging from the tracks. Something drove them away, something that is still there," he watched her as the grim thought sank in, then shrugged. "So if you suddenly came to care for your well-being, I'd say we take a roundabout way."

"We don't have time," she muttered. He quirked an eyebrow questioningly, but she bit her tongue in time not to spill something unsuitable for outsider's ears. Though Malin seemed to lose interest in her, staring hard (_too_ hard?) into the fire, Adele still didn't want to tempt misfortune. "…There… appeared to be a witness, who saw the attackers and… well… described them rather thoroughly. So the less time we waste here, the better."

"A witness?" he tilted his head, grating 'not-really-smiling' look entering his eyes. "You had left a witness? _Really_ sloppy."

For a brief moment, but she considered breaking his face. Hammering that smirk of his into the back of his scull. In everyone's view, to make him stumble back, blood spewing out of his nose and mouth, his lips split against his teeth… Considered in honest. Because here she was, looking for a way to slither her way out of the trap she had gotten to – and there was _he_. _Enjoying_ himself.

And what was even worse, his mocking gaze showed that he knew perfectly well about her considering.

"Come now, princess," he murmured, "if you _had_ destroyed Ember, I won't blame you. Could have told about your plans before – I might have even helped. Maybe even for free."

"…I'm really in no mood for such jokes, Bishop," her tone was a flat slab of ice.

"Well, it was only a _half_-joke…"

Adele gave an abrupt nod towards the woman in the chair, who was in perfect earshot to catch their conversation, and glared back at Bishop, her eyes screaming for him to keep silent. He followed her movement, his uninterested gaze falling on the half-elven ranger… but suddenly paused. Malin was still looking into the flames, though more _at_ them than _into_, her eyes skidding frantically over the logs and embers, her one hand lying on the arm of chair, fingers gripping the wood, knuckles nearly white from the force of the squeeze…

And just like that, even before Bishop's eyes narrowed in amused recognition, Adele realized why Malin's attitude and behaviour struck her as familiar – it was a faint echo of Bishop himself.

"Now, now, look whom I found," Bishop's lips curved into a thin crooked smile, spiteful and dry, and the woman in the chair closed her eyes in silent defeat at being noticed. "Malin. Don't tell me you are still playing girl-of-the-wood."

"Bishop," she muttered – nearly cursed – shooting him a short grim look, then mirrored his parody of a smile, though obviously with more strain. "And here I wondered if you'd ever drag your sorry carcass back here."

"You waited for me? I'm touched," he cocked his head to the shoulder. "Then again, what else was there for you to do? It's not like you could have tracked me down if you wanted to."

"But could have tracked _myself_ far away if I knew you were coming."

"Suit yourself, the door is opened – it's at the west wall," he winced mockingly. "Damn, my bad, you don't know where west is."

Adele cast her eyes between them. Suddenly the prospect of listening to Elgun's raving appeared much less horrible. She wasn't sure whether she should remind them of her presence, then finally decided it was a good way to break the rangers up before… well, something happened. "So, you two…" she shrugged, coming up with the most idiotic question, "…know each other?"

Of course they did. Knew each other long enough to pick up those tiny sketches of the other's personality and unwittingly copy them as their own. At least, the girl did.

"…You could say so," Malin answered sullenly, looking back at the fire. Bishop only smirked, still standing behind her armchair and staring fixedly at the back of her head. And something in Malin's face told that she was well aware of his stare.

Adele licked her lips, then shrugged again. "And… _how_ do you know each other?"

_Second prize in the contest for the most stupid question._

Bishop's deep rumbling chuckle, sounding strikingly similar to a grumble of a huge satisfied animal, actually told the whole tale without a single word. "This should be rich…" the ranger murmured. "Come on, Malin, you start."

"No way," the woman grated through clenched teeth and glanced at Adele, nodding towards him, "while _it_ is somewhere ten leagues around. The smell alone is enough to make me sick."

He leaned forwards, folding his arms on the back of her chair, watching her profile, and purred almost into her ear: "Oh is it now?"

Malin shrank away from him without uttering a sound, which only sharpened his smirk. Not changing his pose, he turned his head, looking at Adele:

"There you have it, princess. A ranger that can't find her way north along the Sword Coast with a map, drawn pointing arrows and a guide. And – yeah," he chuckled again, this time differently, almost maliciously, returning his attention fully to Malin, "nearly forgot her main accomplishments." The woman closed her eyes, but Bishop, paying no heed to it, hissed: "She nearly got me – and herself – killed several times over while scouting the Luskan border. Still makes me wonder if I wanted someone to keep me warm _that_ much."

"Yeah, I got the gist, thank you," Adele cut in before he went on, and smiled. "Must be Tymora's kiss that we've got _you_, huh?"

"You have no idea," he drawled, unperturbed. "You see, impatience, incompetence... such things get scouts killed," his gaze was still fastened on Malin, who did her best to ignore him. Bishop smirked darkly. "That's how sad it is when you're not fully an elf... and not fully a human. It's like you've always got something to prove, eh?"

"For the record, Bishop," Adele muttered, "another half-elf is standing just beside you."

"Yeah," he glanced at her, "I _know_."

_...__And that was a knock-down, dearest sirs and ladies, _- her inner voice cooed in admiration. – _Oh, he's good._

Some distant part of her actually wanted to look at Malin, to see her reaction to that double-punch – but Adele discovered that she couldn't tear her eyes from Bishop's. The ranger watched her in return with the same adamant insolence, as if daring her to argue or finally carry out silent threat of planting a fist into his face. Because both ways would have been exactly a sort of '_proving' _he implied.

It was almost mesmerizing, how her every exchange with him turned into a leaping from one small island to the other over the abyss – one wrong step, and the ranger would surely have a good laugh watching her long fall. Maybe even spit after.

"…You… are… _something_," she admitted finally, not without satisfaction noticing surprise in his stare – for just a heartbeat before it was gone, sunk in amber depths without a trace – and bowed her head. "Here I couldn't figure out what my problem was. You just hit the nail on the head. Don't know what I would've done without you, really."

"Been dead?" he prompted.

"Ah, have some pity for me, will you? I've already had enough of harsh truths for one day."

She knew what he would answer, knew by the derisive golden flecks in his eyes, even before the words left his mouth. "As you wish, my lady," he murmured huskily, and her smile faded as his gaze unhurriedly trickled down her face, line of her jaw, taking in her neck, stopping briefly to follow the slightly noticeable tightness in it as she swallowed, hoping to wet her suddenly dry throat…

"What's the matter, Bishop?" Malin's sarcastic voice grinded between them, breaking the spell, and Adele almost jumped when all the sounds of the tavern flooded back into her ears, that seemed to had grown deaf to anything apart from Bishop's voice a moment before. Malin herself was still staring into the fire, but hadn't missed the silence. "You've got yourself a mistress? I thought no woman had the right to shut you up," she moved her shoulder in a falsely indifferent shrug. "Then again, perhaps, you were lying about that, _too_."

His smirk not faltering, the ranger leaned back to her: "Or, perhaps, _you_ just never had the guts to, eh?"

Malin sniffed - hardly a fitting answer - and Bishop straightened himself up, his scoffing mask dissipating, leaving nothing but disdain, pure and simple, with which he turned away and stalked to the bar, without sparing another glance at the half-elven ranger. Adele caught herself following him with her eyes and shook her head, heaving a sigh:

"Tymora's kiss, indeed," she grumbled. "Right in the ass." Malin snorted dryly, and Adele looked at her hopefully, "You sure your leg is that bad? One of my companions is quite apt in nature's healing, you know, especially if it ends up in leaving _him_ behind…"

"He's good," the ranger suddenly said, her tone honest, even if not particularly warm. "Perhaps one of the best on the Coast, I'll give him that. Just…" she pursed her lips, obviously not sure what or how she wanted to say, then glanced at Adele's cloak once more and averted her gaze. "Never mind. Be careful if you go to the Grove."

Adele watched her for a moment, but the ranger didn't add anything else, so the woman reluctantly made her way towards others. Her companions managed to slip themselves in the crowd of Elgun's listeners, apart from Bishop, who was already nursing a tankard at the counter, not really _away_ from the rest, but putting enough distance between himself and the patrons not to be _with_ them either.

"I was wrong," Qara observed as she noticed Adele beside her and nodded at Elgun. "_This_ is the story worthy of Grobnar's making."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes," Sand drawled, perhaps for the first time not arguing with Qara. "The man is clearly a fool. But it is his audience that truly concerns me."

"Why?" Adele ran suspicious glance over the patrons. Usual tavern clientele to her.

"Because they are _listening_."

"…I would have taken them all out," the drunkard meanwhile went on with his epos, "but one sneaked behind my back and gave me such a blow with those claws of his that knocked me out! But falling, I still managed to put a blade under his scales!"

"But not a scratch on him," Neeshka pointed out with a snicker, quietly, trying to stay away and not attract attention. Wise, since the story was about demons. "Honestly, all this blether reminds of Khelgar and his endless glorious brawls. But at least Stumpy's all scarred and bruised, so it's kinda believable in his case."

Elanee not far from her gave a bleak joyless smile. "It is moments like this I realize that humans are beyond my understanding, no matter how much time I've spent observing them."

"There's nothing to understand here," the tiefling snorted. "Cheap fame and free booze, those are all the motives."

"Yes, that is the thing that baffles me. It would have been very funny if only it wasn't actually this sad."

"Sir," Sand suddenly raised voice, addressing Elgun. "Have you by chance seen the one who led the attack?"

Elgun spluttered for a second, a bit muddled by the elf's totally practical tone, but collected himself and shook his head sorrowfully:

"Didn't have time to make out. Otherwise would have killed him the first, I swear!"

"Well, Elgun," some of the listeners put in, "at least you tried."

"Yeah. If only I could…" he sighed.

"Swine," Shandra whispered, her eyes alight with barely contained anger.

"You see," Sand continued in the same even voice, "we've spoke to the survivor of the battle…"

"There's a survivor?" the drunkard blinked, and his face became even redder. "Well... ehm... that's... that's good news! Though I wish I could have saved others."

"Yes, yes, no doubt," Sand nodded. "But the case is that the poor girl saw the massacre with her eyes – and she noticed not a single demon there, which is by all means strange and inexplicable."

"What? No, no way! There were demons! She must have got confused, with all the smoke and fire, poor soul…"

"Of course," the elf muttered under his breath and flinched, as if he was trying to grab something greasy with his bare hands.

"And what were you even doing near Ember?" Shandra demanded. "The murderers are not found yet, you know."

Elgun's eyes nearly popped out: "How can you think of me that way, girl? I was in Duskwood when I saw the flames! Of course I rushed there, even put aside that deer I've been tracking for days…"

Bishop, who was much more interested in his ale up to that time, gave a contemptuous snort: "There is no deer in Duskwood."

"Wh…?" Elgun stumbled in his words. "What do you mean?"

"What I said."

"No, I…" he couldn't miss how some of his listeners started to throw doubtful glances between him and the ranger, who seemed to be a better authority in the case. But Elgun was sufficiently drunk and full of himself to be stubbornly persistent. "There's plenty!'

"No."

"Well, I don't know how there isn't any, if I tracked one down."

"Yeah, I'm curious, too, how you tracked one down if there isn't any."

"I… you think what you want, lad, but…"

Adele didn't feel Bishop passing her. He never pushed anyone, not even moved a single person aside, but somehow was already standing right in front of Elgun, slipped through the crowd like a white-hot blade through a lump of butter. His narrowed eyes were fastened firmly on Elgun, and something in his stare made other patrons step away, forming yawning emptiness around the two men.

"Here's my offer," Bishop's voice was quiet, sounding more like a rustle, that rustle with which one draws a sword out of the scabbard. Adele felt goose bumps rise on her skin, making tiny hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. "Why don't you _take_ me to the place where you've seen that deer."

"You… ah… want to see the place?"

"Sure," the ranger sneered wolfishly and gave Elgun's chest a slight thump with his mug, the gesture not even nearly as friendly as it would have been in any other circumstances. "It's to _die_ for."

All the previous listeners seemed to have been blown away, spreading about the corners, leaving only their band around the braggart. He regarded all of them in turn nervously and gave a quiet half-strangled laugh:

"Well… alright, guys, you clearly know I wasn't there. What do you want from me?"

"For you to keep shut," Shandra cut off. "And think at least _a little_ when you open that mouth of yours!"

"I get treated with free drinks for such stories. What, you grudge a mug of beer?"

"It's for you we are worrying, good sir," Sand added insinuatingly. "As our dear friend already mentioned, the murderers are still loose. And if they are to find out you call yourself a witness…" the elf finished with a significant shrug.

Elgun blanched: "I… I haven't thought of it…"

"Go ahead, think," Bishop made a deliberately slow sip from his tankards, still standing uncomfortably close to Elgun and keeping his eyes on him. "I'm in no hurry."

Adele reached out, placing her palm on his forearm, silently asking to stop before the whole affair went too threatening. The ranger didn't look at her, but made a step back, and Elgun, as if recovered from hypnosis, looked around in confusion, turning back to his former listeners, who watched the exchange from the distance.

Noticing them, he cleared his throat and threw his hands up: "Um… everyone, I have an announcement! What I've told you is all not true! Like, you, know, a fairy-tale! But it was interesting after all, wasn't it?"

None of their company stayed to listen, without any command or agreement moving away towards the exit, nearly all faces bearing variable degrees of loathing. Adele halted for a moment, skimming over the tavern one last time to make sure they hadn't missed anything, when caught sight of Malin. The half-elf was following their group with a careful, though unreadable gaze. Not quite able to keep back a frown, Adele quickened her step, catching up with Bishop, and asked quietly:

"What exactly happened between you two?"

"Me and whom?" Bishop wondered without any interest whatsoever, casting her a fleeting sidelong glance.

"Malin."

He tilted his head to the shoulder, watching her from under half-hooded lids, until slowly and meaningfully smirked.

Probably, no one else in the world could smirk _so_ meaningfully.

"Why the sudden interest?" he wondered lowly.

"Uh-huh… Madly jealous."

"Don't be, sweetheart," he slowed his pace a little to go in step with her, wrapping his arm around her waist, softly, innocuously – but Adele felt his thumb slip under her sheath-belt, tracing its inner side. _Ouch. Went too far this time?_ "Just ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no tales."

"But I like tales," she cooed, but dropped it quickly. "Come on, just curious. Seeing how you two nearly bit each other's heads off."

"Well then, _do_ forgive me, Your Highness," he answered snidely, drawling every word that made each one of them sound like an insult, "if I don't engage in idle talks about my past. Not my style."

Adele rolled her eyes: "Now there's a tragedy."

She slipped out of his easy embrace, outstripping him to be the first to leave the tavern - and ignoring his barely audible chuckle behind her back. Seeing Neeshka already re-telling the short version of what happened inside to Khelgar, Casavir and Grobnar, Adele just skipped down the stairs to them. "Any troubles?"

"No, none," Casavir assured her, his glance regarding all of them quickly, but thoroughly, making sure that no one was harmed. "Any success, if I may ask in return?"

"Yeah, better than was, at least."

Khelgar nodded at the doors: "Sure ya don't wanna me to go and punch the liar for good measure?"

"Please, no," she chuckled. "That way he'll get a face-sized bruise and a broken nose, so more people would come to believe in his heroic doings."

"But ya won't tell much without teeth, y'know."

"Well, actually," Grobnar interfered, "producing coherent sounds has little to do with teeth, it's more about vocal cords, those tiny muscle formations in the throat that-"

"Applies to ya too, Grobby."

"…Ah. I see," the gnome beamed and ran a finger across his lips, sealing them.

"Then I believe we are bound for Ember now?" Casavir concluded.

"Yeah." Adele nodded. "Considering there's something to look for in Duskwood itself."

"We are not staying for the night?" Qara gaped at her.

"Frankly, I have no desire of staying in the town where half of the population wants my head on a stick."

"Like they can _do_ something about it."

"Well, with my luck…" Adele shrugged. "Besides, there's lots of time before dusk, we can make a good way still."

Qara huffed, but moved her shoulder in condescending agreement. "Fine. Wonderful. Have a tavern at our hand, but will go and sleep again under some bush or in the hole in the ground. What more can a girl ask for?"

"A gag?" Sand suggested at the sky.

"For you? Asked several times, never came."

"Gods know better."

"And don't even start," Adele rounded, then turned her head a bit, not looking over her shoulder at the ranger, but enough to make him get that she was addressing him. "Malin said there is some cave in the mountains in Duskwood, an hour's walk from Ember."

"There is," Bishop asserted after a second of reflection. "Even several."

"We'd better check them out. It seems someone made camp there."

"Above the Grove?" he gave a quiet whistle. "Lunatic."

Adele shrugged again, already making her way down the street. "Either way, worth some checking. Whoever they are, they could have seen or heard something."

"Like what?"

"Like… anything," she turned on her heels, proceeding with her back forward, and looked at her companions. "I'll settle for any _coherent_ version of what happened there."

"And if there _is_ a lunatic camping out there," Neeshka grinned, "we can always send Grobnar to speak to him. Might come to an agreement."

"Me?" the gnome lifted his head, regarding the tiefling quizzically. "Why? Oh, no-no, of course, I'm always ready to give a try, but I'm with miss Adele on this for now – without knowing the whole picture, everything that happened seems a bit to fuzzy for me for the moment," Neeshka frowned, apparently taken aback by his sudden adequacy. Grobnar grinned. "Or maybe it's just me. Anyway, point me that cave and nothing inside will escape Grobnar Gnomehands!"

"Scary notion, to think of it," Adele snickered, starting to turn back to face the road, when she was stopped dead by two female voiced shouting:

"Careful!"

She froze, discovering that she nearly crashed into one of the merchant tents, the one heaped up with herbs of every sort and kind, tufts and bunches of dried up flowers and bags of unknown powders.

"Oops," Adele muttered, taking a step back, and glared shortly at Elanee, who was one of the two shouting. "Gentler next time, okay? I nearly chocked my heart out."

The druidess gave her an elegant apologetic shrug: "I'm sorry."

"I never even knew you _can_ scream."

"Oh, I can," the elf smiled.

Another woman – the merchant - appeared to be an elf, too, small and slim, with raven-black hair cut short in nearly men's fashion. Making sure her friable assortment was left intact, she flashed them a relieved grin.

"Sorry," Adele nodded her.

"No, it's my fault," the herbalist waved her off. "Always keep telling myself 'Nya, you should sort everything out, you should tidy it all up…' After all, working place should be kept in order."

"That's right," Grobnar nodded. "Not that I ever followed that rule, but the idea itself always seemed very sound."

Sand, who was studying the range of goods, lifted an eyebrow at Nya: "Is there any particular reason for such an overwhelming quantity of wyrmsage?"

Qara, probably sensing one of 'wizard-like' discussions, groaned in frustration: "Any particular reason to _ask_?"

"It is used as a reagent in many different amalgams."

"So what?"

"Above everything, can be used as an accessory substance in dealing with the undead," the wizard looked meaningfully at Adele, and the woman felt her insides give an unpleasant jolt. _No… Not another Shadow Priest, not to _this_ pile._

"So _what_?" the sorceress obviously wasn't going to give up.

"_Nothing_," Sand stared at her. "Just to know. Everything is good to know, Qara."

"Port Llast has an undead problem?" Casavir asked Nya solemnly, getting the message as well as Adele. His face was firm, much like the one he had in underground cave in Old Owl Well.

"No, it's… it's Ember," the herbalist shook her head. "Just to imagine how many bodies are there right now, untended and unburied… Luskans do not care about such things. So I plan on going there and make sure everything is alright."

"What makes you suspect otherwise?" Adele wondered.

"Oh, it's nothing, probably. My former… acquaintance was of clerics of Kelemvor, so he used to tell me a lot about undeath and all concerned," Nya switched her attention to her herbs, arranging them absentmindedly. "He said that when someone dies such a brutal death, there is a possibility they can come back as undead or ghost. But he's gone and… I guess, that leaves only me to take care of such things… Just can't find time to attend to it."

"We're going to Ember. If you want, we can…" Adele waved her hand over the bags, "…don't really know what to do, though."

"Oh, it's easy, really," Nya assured her, her face lighting up with a relieved smile. "Just sprinkle the wyrmsage over the bodies, it'll trap the soul inside. Once trapped, its possible negative energies should be suppressed, and it'll be free to pass beyond this world."

"…Huh?"

Sand cleared his throat: "An… overly dramatic description… and assumption… of the properties of souls, but she is right – the wyrmsage will serve to fight the simplest of necromantic arts."

"Are you truly willing to do it?" Nya asked, running her hopeful gaze over all of them.

"No," Bishop drawled. "Like we have nothing else to do but to mess around with half-rotten dead," he looked at Adele gibingly. "But no one asks _us_, right?"

"No one asks _you_," Shandra hissed.

"Damn, again I insulted corpses of Ember."

"Bishop," Casavir growled.

"_I_'ll do it for sure, don't worry," Adele told Nya, not paying attention to yet another argument.

"Thank you," the elf smiled, tying up the laces of the linen bag, then passed it to the woman. "I… thank you, really."

"Not at all."

She put the bag with wyrmsage into her pack, and the company took a turn away from the town, towards the first trees of Duskwood, sketched in the mist ahead. Adele noticed Karnwyr waiting there, but the wolf ignored everyone apart from his master, who called him to his side with scarcely a nod of his head.

"So what, it's all true?" Neeshka asked somewhere behind Adele's back. "About the undead, I mean. And some dried ground grass actually helps?"

"At least, won't harm," Sand answered pragmatically. "May serve as prophylaxis."

"…Pro-what?"

"Prophylaxis. Preventive measures. Cumulative actions to stave off something," Neeshka's look remained questioning, and the wizard sighed. "When you are doing something beforehand, knowing that later it won't allow something bad to happen."

"…Oh. Oh, now I get it," the tiefling nodded with a grin. "Neat word, need to remember it. Five golds worth at the very least."

"You know, miss Neeshka," Grobnar muttered, "it is a very interesting approach, to value words in coins! Indeed, such thought never even crossed my mind. Well, perhaps, it crossed, but didn't stay. No, really, it's an intriguing allegory! Some words are weighed in coppers, some – in silver, some – even in gold! Perhaps even in gems! My, wonderful!" he beamed at Bishop who happened to come along with him.

The ranger snorted: "Relax, gnome. _Everything_ is weighed in copper, silver or gold."

"But there are so many things, which are totally intangible, but so valuable nonetheless. Like dreams or beauty or hope or sunlight or-"

"You can have all of those for free, I'll even pay you in excess."

"Bishop, are you that jaded to speak such things or just that bored?" Elanee sighed.

He flinched: "Yeah, and all the pretty meadows and flowers are for you, druidess."

"Think he's up to selling off the whole world," Neeshka snorted.

"As long as you pay," the ranger shrugged. "By the way, oh fearless selfless and many other 'less' leader – that herbalist is actually going to compensate the trouble, I hope."

"I'm the one carrying the bag," Adele threw over her shoulder. "And we are going to Ember anyway. No additional strain for you."

"Needn't have told _her_ about it. I don't think she would have actually gone there on her own."

"Nah, she would have. To put them to rest, to pay the debt to her former lover, whatever," noticing others give her puzzled glances, Adele arched her brow. "What, I was the only one who saw her eyes when she was speaking of him?"

"So we are doing it because one girl felt bad for the other," Bishop concluded. "Nice."

Elanee regarded him with a cool glance: "Maybe you better take note on how to pay attention to others?"

"And will I get a thrilled half-naked druidess of my own in that case?"

"Bishop," Casavir pulled him up, but the ranger only smirked:

"Yeah, you're right, not the most terrible fate. You, too, noticed that she doesn't wear anything under those robes, eh?"

The paladin gritted his teeth: "Keep your eyes on the road, ranger, as is your duty."

"Right. You heard the paladin, druidess – so shove off and don't distract me."

Adele rolled her eyes helplessly. Qara, walking by her side, shrugged:

"Want me to torch them?"


	23. XXIII: Critical Mass

_A/N: __Just realized that the previous two chapters, as well as this one and the next actually cover one single day. Yup, a hard day, indeed. Concerning some Del's thoughts and reactions towards a certain ranger… we all remember she's a half-drow, right?;) She may not be aware of that (yet) and was certainly raised differently, but I'm a strong believer that ages-old genes don't give a damn._

_P.S.__: Since the FFnet gives no possibility to answer unregistered reviewers directly – hearty thanks to Vive here for her review. To answer a question – yeah, I'm going to follow at least the trial-part pretty tightly, since in my opinion it was the crucial point in the PC's character development. As for Del not being able to go on 'smiling and nodding' for ever… well, here you go:)_

_For those wonderful people who keep adding my crazy story to alert/favourite lists – while I'm glad of the fact itself, I certainly wouldn't mind a line or two in review on the subject of why you even bothered. Otherwise I'm feeling like I've been made out with while sleeping:)_

* * *

**XXIII**: Critical Mass

All the talks gradually died away as they went deeper and deeper into Duskwood. Oppressing silence, so absolute that it seemed to be a sound itself, nearly corked up mouths, not allowing a single word to shatter its eerie dominion.

The trees, tall, dark-grey, towered around them in thick disorder that never assumed any path or road to even exist. Though the sun was high up in the sky, its light didn't make it under the unmoving branchy dome of tree crowns, where shade reigned, silvery, murky and dense. From time to time noises came from the depths of the forest, rustle of grass, gentle murmur of a distant brook – but all sounds were muted, nearly worn down, constrained, as if Duskwood tried to strangle the very air with its silence.

No one argued when Bishop took the lead. He paced ahead, almost melting in the semidarkness in his grayish-green cloak, his wolf trotting noiselessly by his side. Sometimes they both stopped, exchanged glances in wordless communication only for the two of them, and the animal evanesced somewhere aside, while the ranger went on further, until their paths crossed again. Bishop was long since carrying his bow at hand, with an arrow ready, and the others reached for their weapons as well. Probably every one of them heard stories about Duskwood and its inhabitants – not just wolves, bears and wild boars, but also the creatures lurking in the very heart of the forest smoky haze – werewolves, nymphs and other troubling beings.

Even Grobnar kept silent, but Adele saw admiration for the grim grandeur of the obscure forest sparkling in his eyes, admiration mute, unreserved, for which even he couldn't find suitable words.

Looking around and back, Adele realized why the rangers – and Bishop in particular – were drawn to the place. Duskwood was a pure challenge. With its every rise, every clearing, every misleading trail it dared mortal abilities, dared as much as the guileful Mere. The woman couldn't help but think that Daeghun would have also appreciated Duskwood.

Moreover, _she_ was admiring it herself.

It was probably so easy to get lost in the wood, never to be found… especially if one didn't want to be found. Involuntarily, she mulled over that little phrase Bishop had dropped back in Neverwinter – about running away and hiding somewhere. Even though it was nothing more than another of his perpetual suggestive crap, the substance was still tempting. She didn't give it much thought, not until there were possibilities to _solve_ the whole nonsense - but in Duskwood the option of simply disappearing seemed much more doable than anywhere else.

Still… stupid. Both Neverwinter and Luskan had skilled trackers that would find her without much effort and drag back to one of the cities. She didn't know the forest and its neighbourhoods enough for such escape to work.

_Bishop does…__ -_ her inner voice dropped in helpfully.

_Uh-huh__,_ - she sniffed in her mind. – _If only requiring help from Bishop didn't include _Bishop_. I'm pretty much at the limits of my patience for him already._

But even dismissing all thoughts about hitting the road, she still glided her gaze over the ground, automatically marking this or that indications of a possible path, spotting traces of someone's stay - in notches on the trees, thoroughly covered campsites, in the way moss was peeled from some trunks to get access to bark and tinder for a fire…

Maybe, Daeghun would have praised her. Maybe not.

She was content with inner satisfaction that she felt, seeing that Bishop sometimes followed exactly the path and way she would have chosen. Though her self-esteem was a bit bruised by the fact that he did it much quicker, easier, without second thoughts and doubts – still, Adele was a realist enough to understand that she was no match for an experienced hunter, especially on the terrain he was familiar with.

_And yet__ I'm not completely a novice in the stuff, too… Would have liked to see him in the Mere, on _my_ territory…_

Sometimes she looked back at others, to make sure everyone was alright. Apart from Grobnar, the one to walk closest to her was Khelgar. The dwarf felt obviously uncomfortable, so, to embolden himself, he threw his axe from on hand to the other and back, muttering something into his beard. Neeshka followed at his heels, gazing around, and Adele noticed how tiefling's movements gained the same catlike grace that appeared when she was sneaking around to check for dangers or slipped unnoticed behind an enemy's back. Neeshka herself probably wasn't even aware of her own caution, but her steps gave it away, becoming soft and soundless, as well as her tail that moved from side to side in nervous jerks. Casavir looked composed and encouragingly calm – as always – though his palm was resting on the hilt of the sheathed sword, the other taking firm hold of the strap of his shield hanging on his back, and his blue eyes followed every tree and every shadow that streamed between them. Shandra was tense, at the same time trying to hide it – but Adele had already learnt to recognize the blonde woman's distinctly solemn expression as the most evident proof of her inner unrest. The farmer did her best to keep close to the centre of their company, sometimes quickening her pace or slowing it not to fall behind and stay alone. Elanee glided effortlessly at the side of the group, her eyes half-closed, her head tilted, as if she was listening to something. Maybe she was, indeed. Sand walked deep in thoughts, looking into space, his arms crossed, not paying any attention to what was around, only his inborn elven sensitivity keeping him from stumbling over the roots and branches that got in the way. Qara strode purposefully away from him, her head tossed up proudly, as usual, and glanced around with no less usual air of a queen making a round of her domains. But Adele didn't like her pallor, and the way the sorceress held her staff – not on her shoulder as her habit was, but using it as a walking stick, leaning against it slightly as she moved.

Adele slackened her own pace, shoving aside faint nagging twinge in the pit of her stomach, when her monthlies protested against breaking of the steady rhythm of steps, and came up to the girl, raising her brows: "You okay?"

"Of course," Qara answered, not looking at her.

"…Sure?"

"Yes. Yes, just…" she drew a deep breath and lifted her head defiantly, "Yeah, I'm great."

Adele glanced at Tamin, who kept his warm spot under the sorceress' collar. The weasel didn't look great in the slightest, nudging his nose into his mistress' neck, as if sensing her discomfort. Taking that as a proof, Adele called quietly for Neeshka walking ahead and, as the tiefling looked back at her, nodded silently at the ranger. Getting the hint, the rogue grinned:

"Camp?"

Adele nodded again, but before the tiefling even managed to open her mouth to call for Bishop, she was surpassed by Grobnar:

"Camp, sir Bishop!"

His clear voice exploded in the forest silence with a glass-like peal, rooting the ranger to the spot. Turning slowly, he regarded the gnome with a scalding glare that would have turned anybody else to a pile of ash as good as one of Qara's spells. But Grobnar, being totally impervious to any kind of attitude, just grinned.

"I swear, I'll flay you for dinner, gnome," Bishop promised in hissing whisper.

Grobnar's grin faded, if only for a bit: "Oh? Really, I don't think I'll be of much use there. If to consider my weight and divide it between everyone present, it won't-"

"Shut up," the ranger glared at the rest, his mouth thinning in contempt. "What the Hells happened again? Someone wrenched a stump or what?"

"Camp," Adele repeated, calmly meeting his stare.

Bishop flourished her a mock bow: "Sure, please, camp, rest, sleep, breed, whatever."

"I think after several hours of walking we can allow a break."

"By all means, for all I care. It's not for _me_ the gallows are begging for."

Deciding that was not worth an answer, Adele turned away from him and looked around for a place suitable for a camp.

"That's a nice spot," Khelgar jerked his head at a small clearing at the foot of the hill they were standing on.

Bishop bared his teeth in a grin: "Go ahead, and with a battle-cry, dwarf."

"Why not?" Khelgar scowled at him.

"There's a wolves' path to the watering place going through there," Adele was the first to answer and turned her head, staring point-blank at the ranger and arching her brow.

He measured her with a cold scoffing glance, then shrugged: "Fine, earned a point," he waved his hand up the hill. "That way."

"More climbing?" Neeshka sighed tiredly.

"It's leeward," Adele managed to say again, and Bishop gnashed his teeth, darting a glare at her.

She held his glare tranquilly, with silent challenge, and he shook his head.

"Don't provoke me, girl," he growled softly, silken threatening notes back in his voice.

"Or?"

He didn't answer at once, just staring at her – not looking, but _staring_, his narrowed eyes boring deeply into hers. She stood still, expecting that gaze to slide down, as it frequently did, slowly, evaluatingly, to try throwing her off-balance that way. But it didn't, firm, unfaltering, only skidding insensibly from side to side to take in both her eyes – and, as stupid as it was, Adele suddenly felt already familiar tight warmth coiling up inside of her, like her innards were nothing more than noodles being twined slowly on a hot fork, until were tied up in an achingly throbbing knot that threatened to burn its way out of the bottom of her abdomen.

Well, why not? He could smile without smiling, why not leer without leering?

_Behave__, Delly…_ - she soothed herself inwardly, suppressing an urge, a _need_ to shift, to back off, away, anything… - _Don't show… The only way to cope with him – is to be stronger than him… _

_Damn, a bit more – and I'll melt down into my boots._

Bishop finally blinked, breaking the binding, and Adele barely held herself from drawing a deep breath.

"Or you'll see," he said at last, turning away from her.

"Dying to," she murmured at his back.

The ranger stopped - of course he did – and she grinned as he glanced at her over his shoulder, a wry smirk quirking up his mouth: "You just don't know when to shut up, do you."

"Like I said," she shrugged innocently, "you know all my problems."

He turned away again, yet no sooner then his eyes at last _did_ slip down her body, deliberately, raking her - but before she could get used to the feeling, he was already walking away, towards others settling on a pointed hilltop. Snorting quietly under her breath, she followed, coming up to Neeshka, who was waiting for her to catch up.

"And what in the Abyss are you doing, I wonder?" the tiefling crooned slyly.

Adele gave a subtle smile, looking into Bishop's back: "Leashing the dog."

* * *

…The camp-site appeared a good one indeed, the position on the hill providing comfortable observation of all the slopes - and enough trees to cover their presence at the same time. Adele wasn't sure the beasts of Duskwood wouldn't _smell_ them in the air, but her concerns appeared to be in vain, as Bishop, moving a bit from the camp, took out a small vial out of his pack, glanced around and uncorked it, throwing away. Almost instantly the air was filled with faint, but positively repulsive aroma that made almost everyone cringe.

"Damn, Bishop," Shandra blinked several times, as if the stench was stinging her eyes. "We were actually going to _eat_."

"Yeah, and without it someone out there would have gladly eaten _you_," the ranger retorted, then smiled at her lewdly. "You want to add thrills to your dinner, farmgirl, I'm right here – no need for beasts' attack."

Shandra muttered something unintelligible, but clearly insulting, though chose not to raise her voice, dropping her pack towards a huge fallen tree, so thick that even lying at its side it still hid sitting figures out of sight. While others got themselves busy with sorting out their bags, looking for meal, Neeshka came up to the log, her tail whipping over it to brush off the leaves and dirt before her bottom landed on it gladly.

"Ooooh, good," the tiefling stretched and rubbed her thighs, tense and sore from the walking. "Whatever you say, I'm a totally city-girl."

"Have to agree," Sand grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Though, not with the 'girl' part."

Neeshka chortled: "That's nice to know."

Adele, paying little attention to them, got closer to Qara, who sat right on the ground, slumping her back against the log and looking into space, her fingers scratching Tamin's neck mechanically.

"You are _not_ okay," Adele observed quietly.

Qara breathed out heavily and finally uttered grimly: "I'm sick."

"Then throw up and let's get moving," was Bishop's indifferent answer.

"It won't help, I'm afraid," Sand muttered. "It is caused by the area itself, the trees… Her senses might become slow, lethargic."

"Lethargic?" Qara chocked out an unbelieving snort. "This place is making my guts churn!"

"Probably because your energies as a sorcerer are raw. I only feel vaguely giddy."

"So I'm not the only one," Elanee sighed in tired relief. "Indeed, this place is… overpowering."

"It'll ebb away once we leave."

"Oi, ya frail weaklings," Khelgar frowned. "What's wrong with ya all?"

"The trees of Duskwood act as a damper on magical energies," Sand explained wearily.

"What?" Qara bristled. "Couldn't you say it _before_ we dragged ourselves here?"

Sand merely looked at her: "My warning wouldn't have reduced the effect. Besides, this particular trait of the forest is known to any magician in the region," he moved his brow. "At least, to any magician that can _read_."

"…Ah!" she narrowed her lids. "That's why you hadn't told me? To bring me here, weaken and humiliate?"

"No, my dear, we came here because we had to. Everything else is merely a fortunate side-effect."

"Are you a _complete_ idiot?" she wondered almost sincerely. "And if something happens? An attack? What the Hells am I supposed to do then? Get sick on them?"

"Take the opportunity to learn to rely on something else apart from your magic."

"…Oh screw you!" Qara bolted up to her feet, but swayed and nearly fell back to the ground.

"Easy there, you feel bad enough already," Adele handed her the flask. "Have some water."

"I don't want _water_," the sorceress hissed, waving her off without looking, her flaming eyes fixed on the wizard.

"Qara," he drawled. "Heed her advice and calm down, It will only make things worse."

"Yeah? Have you read it in a book too, you cheap fairground juggler?"

The elf's blue eyes grew glacial: "I suppose I _could_ say something in return about an 'unequable snot' or a 'lame-brained hysteriac' – but, really, that wouldn't have been _polite_."

"I think that is quite enough," Casavir cut in gravely, shifting his eyes between the spellcasters, clearly expecting – and dreading – a real outburst. "For both of you."

"To Hells with you!" the girl spat, measuring the paladin with a scathing glare. "Like it's _your_ guts turn inside out!"

"Qara," Sand's soft tone remained even, but there was also something in his voice, some metallic echo that allowed to guess the elf was close to rage. "There is nothing you can do about your state right now. So calm down. If anyone, _you_ surely can use a bit of humbling."

"Oh can I?" she took a firm hold of her staff. "Go ahead, then, and prove it!"

"That'll do," Adele reached up from her squatting position and tried to catch the girl to make her sit back, but the sorceress broke free, jerking her chin up:

"He started it!"

"Of _course_ I did," Sand chuckled coldly. "_Everyone_ always does, don't they, Qara."

"Afraid, huh?" she sneered. "You know perfectly well that even _here_, even _now _I'll still turn you to cinders in seconds!"

"Oh sweet Mystra, girl, you are _so_ not worth my time, that I won't even try."

"Ha! Then you _are_ afraid! Just admit it, damn you!"

"Qara, I suggest you stop trying my patience before I accidentally fired a magic missile into your face."

Neeshka leaned towards Khelgar: "My coin's for Sand."

"Nah," the dwarf shook his head. "Lass can bash with her staff."

"…Can't even believe I've been shoved into this circus," Bishop grunted from his place near a tree aside, glaring at the magicians, at Qara in particular. "Shut the trap, tot. If someone runs towards your yells, I'll screw your head off myself."

"Then stop stirring her up, dammit," Adele snapped out.

"Really, cut it off already," Shandra echoed, looking in alarm at the sorceress, whose short red hair seemed to flutter without any wind, her face darkening with furious crimson blush, so intense that her pale eyes seemed to grow colourless in comparison.

"I think we should all calm down," Casavir placated. "We are not here to weaken ourselves with inner quarrels."

"Amen," Bishop proclaimed dryly, turning away and staring back at the forest.

"…For now we must bear the inconvenience to do what needs to be done," the paladin continued, ignoring the ranger. Measured calmness of his voice seemed to appease the tempers, if only for a bit. "Yes, hard and unpleasant, but transient."

Qara waved her hands: "Then let's _do_ something! Anything!"

"We _are_," Sand rapped out.

"Yeah, look how busy you are!"

"Then go and burn something for the time, so we could all get a break from you!"

"Sand," Adele pleaded.

"What's the word-wide problem, anyway?" Bishop wondered, leaning against the tree with his back. "No one was so pissy yesterday."

"Yesterday the whole case seemed… simpler," Sand admitted, obviously relieved to be distracted from the sorceress and speak of business at hand. "For _now_ we have a witness."

"So? A witness more, a witness _less_," the ranger said with an implying smirk.

Shandra's angry eyes snapped to him: "You better not mean it."

He barely spared her a glance, looking back at the wizard: "What, that Hells of a witness it is?"

"The last living resident of Ember, Alaine," Sand explained. "She claims to have seen our dear lady Farlong with her own eyes."

"…Alaine?" the ranger rolled the name over in his mouth thoughtfully, recollecting, then flinched in realization. "It's that whining wench, isn't it? The one we stumbled upon after the ambush. Hells, what's the big deal with her? You show her a knife, and she'll sing quite a different song."

"Take it back," Shandra snarled slowly, her face hardening into a fuming mask, earning her another fleeting dismissive glance from Bishop:

"Make me."

Adele dropped her face into her palms, fingertips rubbing forehead and temples with the strength that nearly excoriated her scull.

"Too much blood has been spilled already, Bishop," Casavir stated, his voice hardly any warmer than Shandra's. "Too much harm done. We would _not_ bring it any further."

Bishop chuckled, rusty emotionless sound. "And who said it's for you to decide? Last time I checked it was the princess who was going to swing in gentle breeze in a noose."

"No one is going to swing anywhere."

"Yeah. Pray."

"E_NOUGH_!" the stressed syllable crashed out of Adele's mouth with force she hardly expected from herself – and hardly cared. "Enough for all of you, gods damn you!"

All eyes turned towards her, and she rose to her feet, her hands rolling into fists, every joint and every muscle quavering with rage.

"And so I therefore _repeat_," she uttered distinctly, "that for whatever happened, it was_ I_ who got accused of the deed. And just as Bishop didn't fail to remind – for which he deserves a separate bloody 'thanks' – it is _I _who will get into the noose. So if you all want to hate each other – _fine_, I never stopped you and never will 'cause I'm stupid enough to think you are grown up people free to have their own opinions and live with them. But don't any of you even _dare _to use_ me _or what_ happens _to me as an excuse for your fights! You have enough of your damned academic, racial, moral or whatever the _fuck_ else differences you can never shove aside for a single bloody moment!" she swished in full lungs of air through her set jaws, its sour taste stinging her chest, enough for the ache in her ribs to echo weakly – and lowered her voice to a cold growl. "And I appreciate everyone of you being here – but if I get hanged just because you decided it would be great to gnaw each other at _my_ expense, then I _swear_ that during the trial I _shall_ stand up and claim that you all have _been_ there, in Ember, with me. How's _that_ for unity?"

Silence was the only answer. Her gaze travelled over their faces, looks on them varying from surprise to guilt, her fists still clenched, short nails nearly breaking the skin of her palms.

"Anyone else wants to say anything? _Now_'s the fucking time."

Neeshka and Khelgar both stared warily at Qara, who obviously _wanted_ to speak up, but swallowed the words with an expression of gulping down something sour, and sat back on the ground. Others exchanged surreptitious glances. Only Elanee, who kept silent all the time, had her eyes solely for Adele, her expression nearly painful – and Bishop, too, was staring at her, looking for all the world _pleased_. As Adele locked her gaze on him, his lips twitched in amusement.

"There you go, princess," he inferred in deathly silence. "You can when you want to, eh?"

She never said anything, not a single sound, when in one swift motion drew her rapier out of the scabbard and hurled it at him, knowing perfectly he would dodge – but at that moment almost wishing he wouldn't be able to. The ranger jerked aside, and the thin blade sank deep into the wood near his shoulder, wobbling with a faint metal hum.

"…Oh shit," Neeshka exhaled, quickly sliding away from Bishop, closer to Khelgar and Grobnar, the latter's eyes growing to the size of dinner-plates.

Casavir swiftly stepped forwards, positioning himself between Adele and Bishop, ready to stop anything that might happen – whether the woman's actions or the ranger's, was not known. Bishop himself didn't move, following the length of the blade with idle impassive gaze, _too_ impassive as Adele would have noticed – if she gave a damn. But she didn't, closing her eyes and taking yet another deep breath.

"Now I'll leave," she said, feeling stares turning back to her. "For half an hour. Alone. And by the time I come back, I want everything to be alright. Is that clear?"

"…Sure!" Neeshka squeaked.

"Good."

The woman turned around and strode down the hill, only then opening her eyes…

* * *

_In Your __divine grace, my Lord, forgive me my selfish blindness._

He knew she was tired. He had seen her desperation, written plainly in every one of her smiles. From the moment he, together with Elanee and Grobnar, had come back to Haeromus' office and saw her slumped on the masonry, he knew she had been shaken to her core. No matter how she behaved after that, what she said or showed, he could tell that she wasn't calm – no, she had simply _made_ herself calm. The difference he knew all too well.

She was a fighter. That, too, he had come to see, respect and admire. Her every trial she met with her blade raised in waggish salute to her enemies, no matter whom or what those were. Until now. For this time there was no enemy to be greeted, no malefactor within reach to defeat – only cobweb of a loathsome scheme woven around her, unseen and, therefore, unbeatable. He had been through the same. And much to his shame, he had fled. Chocked with the politics and plots, he had chosen the orcs. He had chosen an enemy that could be defeated with the power of weapon – an enemy that _respected_ the power of weapon. It made everything simpler and clearer.

Until she came along, burst into his fight, making it her own, shattering the shield of simplicity and stillness he had around him. Her childishly venturous grin like an awakening slap to his face. And even now, as she stalked into the gloom of Duskwood after her condemnation, he couldn't – wasn't able to - blame her. No living being was made of iron, even less – she. And just because of that he couldn't blame the others, too. Her companions, so used to be handled with easiness that said – they were not led, but simply welcomed to come along. Her smile, her naturalness was addictive. Only a bit of time, and it was taken as granted. No, he didn't blame the rest of his new comrades for their lack of consideration for her. But he blamed _himself_ for being lured away just as easily, dropping his guard and attention in favour of petty squabbles, leaving her alone with her unseen silent burden.

And as harsh as her words were, he found them fully deserved.

"Think we should bring her back?" Shandra asked in a troubled voice, the first to break the silence.

"I do not think we would be welcomed," Casavir answered, and the woman frowned up at him:

"That means she should wander off into this Hells of a forest alone?" she stood up straight. "If no one goes, then I will."

The paladin wanted to object, but Elanee surpassed him:

"No," the druid's voice held so much steel in it, that Casavir at first didn't even believe it was _her_ voice. "She needs to be alone. Sometimes… she just does."

"But if you want to get smacked," Neeshka gave Shandra an overly sweet smile, so sweet that it lacked any friendliness whatsoever, "feel free to go and _try_ to bring her back." To emphasize her words, the tiefling nodded at the rapier, still stuck out of the tree above Bishop's shoulder.

_And _that_ was fully deserved, too, - _Casavir observed, coldly regarding the ranger.

He had to admit, for that second the blade was thrown, he got scared. Not for Bishop's life, but for _hers_. Even now, though she had left, and the ranger was still standing in his spot, the paladin couldn't completely rid himself of the worry. Bishop was clearly not the 'forgive-and-forget' type.

"Fine," Shandra reluctantly admitted her defeat and shook her head, squatting back to the ground to kindle the fire. "What do I know, really."

"I suppose we all did what we could for now," Elanee smiled, seeming almost mocking, but there was hurt behind her tone. Her care for Adele was always there, even if not exactly carried on the surface, and Casavir had come to trust her judgment concerning the other woman's feeling and behaviour. From wherever their quiet bond came, it was undeniable. "Let us just pretend that we all can get along and act civilized once she comes back."

"I _can_ act civilized," Qara snapped, as the druidess' gaze fell upon her. The girl's physical illness so far served to fan the flames of her temper to a real pyre. She waved her hand sharply towards Sand. "_He_ started it, anyway!"

"Then by the gods, Qara, be smarter than him and _finish_ it," the elf muttered in a tired voice, casting a quick warning glance at the wizard to stop his possible remarks.

But Sand paid no attention to their exchange, looking deep into the woods where their leader disappeared. "Does this actually happen often?" he wondered. "Such outbursts?"

"…Aye, happens," Khelgar suddenly gave voice. The dwarf looked grim, his axe within reach. Casavir could tell that for the sturdy Ironfist the whole conundrum of Luskan and Ember was nearly as painful and crushing as for their leader. When Sand threw him a questioning look, Khelgar glanced at Neeshka by his side for some kind of silent agreement, then muttered: "Highcliff."

"Higcliff?" Sand repeated, awaiting for the explanation. Casavir could echo him. So far he had only heard of the lizardlings besieging the small town – a problem that had been solved.

Neeshka rolled her eyes, not in annoyance, but simply at the unpleasant memory. "The Elder there, Mayne, had some problem with lizards… or lizards had some problems with Highcliff, dunno. So we hop there, find them, talk them into peace, then hop back, and he doesn't actually _like_ it. Doesn't trust them or something… to me, just scared. As if it could get any worse. I swear, Del stood there and looked like she's been spat on. And then… then she started hissing. Said that, surely, after all the trouble we would be glad to turn round, go back to lizards and simply slaughter them to the last egg, since it was so much more for the Elder's liking. Can even bring their severed heads so that he'd be able to stick them on pikes outside the town. Because, of course, it was much better than simply allowing lizards to have some part of the shore he never needed and wasn't even aware of until recently…" the tiefling stopped, staring quizzically at Shandra.

She was not the only one to stare, though. Because, still sitting in front of the unlit fire, Shandra was laughing.

"Oh gods, I wish I could have seen his face," she shook her head. "Damned shilly-shally coward… Knew about the burnt farms, watched ships sinking every day and simply sighed in regret on how unfortunate and poor we all were, never moved a finger. Even had the spine to ask me why on Faerun I am not moving to Highcliff. Like _he_ could protect me, right."

"…Yeah," Neeshka grinned at the farmer, and Casavir saw that this time her grin was several degrees warmer. "_He_ told us that you were a stubborn fool to stay on your farm."

"Me? Stubborn fool?" Shandra snorted. "Well, compared to him, I guess, yeah, I am. And _glad_ to be, by the way."

"…So, anyway," Neeshka tuned back to Sand, "I really thought Del was going to punch Mayne or something. Think she barely held herself from it, actually. Maybe he saved himself when finally gave permission for our ship to set sail."

Sand nodded, looking nowhere nearly amused, and rubbed his nose almost violently, tips of his fingers even trailing a slow arch over his brow. "That is a truly _delightful_ thing to learn about a person whom you are supposed to defend on trial and bring face to face with Torio Claven."

"Hey now," Khelgar growled, glaring at the elf. "'Tis not like ar lassie is a blastglobe or somethin'. She keeps herself together, always, 'tis jest… jest like… eh…"

"Like a spring!" Grobnar exclaimed.

"…The one with water," Sand clarified, "or what comes after winter?" Indeed, with the little fellow it could be anything.

"No-no, the spiral one, mechanical," the gnome explained. "When, you know, you wind it too hard, and do it clumsily, it – bang! – jumps back and hits you in the eye. Usually in the right one, though I don't know why."

No one answered at once, thinking over his comparison, perhaps, trying to figure what was wrong with it. Though Casavir soon found it to be more than right.

"Ya know," the dwarf grunted, jerking his head at Grobnar, "I officially claim that he's sane."

The gnome blinked, then said slowly: "Why, _yes_, I am."

Casavir felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips and looked over the rest of his companions. The storm had passed, it seemed, and he glanced at the gloomy forest, into its shadowy depths, wishing – hoping - she would come back the very moment. But the barely visible path between the trees stayed empty, and the paladin suppressed a sigh, turning back to their camp. He wanted to go, to follow, to find, to reassure, comfort, _anything_ – but words had never been his forte.

_Please, my Lord, see her through it, __may she overcome even her darkest hour… Let that darkest hour never even come - but if it does, grant us strength to be at her side. She deserves that…_

…_and much more._

Voices of others flowed around him, though he no longer listened, relieved and content that the tension eased, that he no longer felt the jarring of it in the air, and Casavir stepped towards his pack and weapon – but the sight stopped him.

Bishop. He still leaned against the tree at the side of the camp, but Adele's blade was no longer bedded in the trunk – the ranger had pulled it out, twirling lazily in his hands, glimpses of dim daylight reflecting from its thin sharp edges, flowing into one mesmerizing dance. But Bishop didn't follow it. Somewhere during conversation that he took no part in his gaze got fixed on the others, piercing, intent, _considering_… Just a split of a second, and that gaze flashed to Casavir, meeting his eyes, whatever was in his stare already camouflaged with familiar taunt – but that split of a second was enough to disturb the paladin. He had promised Duncan he would watch the ranger – but with Bishop it was hard to watch and not be watched in return.

A moment of regarding, and Bishop averted his eyes, at the same time pushing himself off the tree, and headed away, the rapier clasped in his one hand. Casavir would have let him go to whatever place he wished, preferably far and deep away – if he hadn't guessed the direction the scoundrel _was_ going. After all, he had been looking the same way just a few minutes before.

"Stand back, Bishop," he growled, and the ranger stopped, glancing at him with exaggerated wonder. "She is to be alone."

The ranger snorted: "Trust me, paladin, I have no wish to keep company with a pissed off bitch for long," he turned the rapier over in his palm, easily, playfully. "Or you want the girl to wander Duskwood not only alone, but _weaponless_ too?" Casavir cursed himself for even opening his mouth, having more than enough time to learn that his every word would be twisted, soiled and distorted, but it was too late. Bishop clicked his tongue in mock reproof: "Sometimes I just don't follow your holy logic."

And with that he dove into the shadows clouded between the trees, unnoticed and silent, any trace of him gone before Casavir had a possibility to stop him. The paladin felt his hand clenching desperately into fist.

"He wouldn't harm her," suddenly came Elanee's quiet voice from the side. The elf was still sitting in the grass, her face just as weary, but her eyes no less keen than the ranger's. When Casavir turned to her, she rested the back of her head on the log, nodding. "He knows well enough he won't get away with it if he does."

"…It is not her physical well-being I am worried about," Casavir muttered. The druidess raised her brows a bit. "I don't want him to meet her in her weakest. Don't want him to set her anguish in the pillory, like he always does."

Elanee smiled, a strange retrospective smile. "He won't get away with that either. Not from _her_."

* * *

_Tsk...__ Neat._

_..._

_Talk about 'overdone'._

_..._

_And where the Hells are you going?_

_ANYWHERE!_

With a vehement curse Adele tore off her hat and gave a sharp shake to her hair, dodging between the trees, until she reached a tiny clearing covered with grayish moss. Throwing the damned hat on the ground, she came up to the nearest tree and planted her boot fiercely into a thick root sticking out of the ground. It gave away with a dry creak, force of the kick ricocheting through her leg and pelvis, until reached the spine.

It felt good.

So good, that she kicked the root again, and again, until her foot went numb, relishing the sensation of the wood _yielding _to her vigor. In her mind, it was no tree-root, no… it was Torio Claven's scull, or the soldier of Port Llast, or Elgun, Garius, or Nevalle or, bloody Hells, even _Alaine_, so quickly and blindly succumbing to Luskan magical trick that presumed her guilt without a single second thought, or now-dead Zeeaire and her followers, deciding to set an ambush in that accursed village of all places…

_**...**__**I will see you in death, **__**Kalach-Cha.**__** I do not think I will have to wait long…**_

The image, so frighteningly clear, came to the woman's mind, the image of her neck snapping in the noose under the weight of her body – and the next instant falling straight into the embrace of the awaiting gith. Adele could almost hear her own voice saying 'Well, it certainly hadn't taken long, indeed.'

She wasn't able to stop a breathless, nearly gasping chuckle that erupted from somewhere deep within her chest, worsening the ache there.

_T__hat's how people go insane… It all starts with cackling to themselves…_

Alas, the thought was funny itself, and she snorted again, closing her eyes, placing both palms on the tree and leaning her forehead to it, hard enough to feel every crevice and jut of harsh bark cutting into her skin, hard enough to squeeze her anger back to whatever place it came from…

…The blade whined just by her ear, plunging deep into the tree, and even before Adele could recover from the start, the hateful voice from behind her drawled:

"That was rude back there, princess."

"I don't give a crap, ranger," she snarled, not turning to him.

"Something we have in common then, eh?"

"Get out of here."

"No way," he snickered.

"Get. The Hells. Out. I'm fed up with you till the end of my days."

"Oh, you can bear a bit more, I'm sure – considering that end is not far away by now."

Adele shut her eyes once more, stoically ignoring insuperable desire to wrench her weapon out of the tree, turn round and slash Bishop's throat open, since it was obviously the only sure method of silencing him. As always, she couldn't hear his footfalls, but some sixth sense screamed that he was coming closer.

"Why do you put up with those idiots?" he pondered aloud. "Guess I'll never know."

"To the Hells with your opinion. You can take it and shove. I don't need it. I don't need a blasted thing from you!"

"I know. That's probably why you get on my nerves a little less than your uncle."

"And to the Hells with my uncle, too!"

Another cold chuckle: "For once, wholeheartedly agree."

Her fingers curled into claws, nails raking the bark of the tree, but she held herself in place, steadying her voice before speaking again. "Please, Bishop. Not _now_. I meant it when I said I need to be alone."

"What's wrong, Your Highness? Does the ugly evil smuggler upset you that much?"

"He surely does," she hissed slowly.

"Don't worry, I won't take offence. I understand. Luskan, and the murders, and this forest, and everyone around are morons, and you have your periods…"

"…Wh…?" her eyes snapped opened, as she spun around on her heels, and nearly crashed into him standing right up against her. The ranger wasn't that much taller than her, but somehow managed to look _down_ at the woman. Smirking. "…How…?"

"Please," he drawled condescendingly. "Don't think it isn't obvious in a wench."

"…You…" her eyes narrowed to slits, all the pent up fury bursting through the carefully constructed dam. "Don't know what kind of shithole you crawled out, you filthy son of bitch, but if you think you've found yourself an amusement…" she took a firm step on him, but he didn't move away, his smirk never leaving his face, only becoming more and more apparent with her every word, "…then you'd better reconsider, meddlesome swine, - or you'll soon have no face to look smug."

"Oh, come now," he murmured, "don't keep yourself back."

Her left hand swished through the air, aiming at his cheek, but he was able to intercept it, gripping her wrist. Adele let out a stifled snarl, but, not willing to give up, tried to backhand him with her right one. The ranger caught it, too, easily twisting both her arms around her, pressing them behind her back, so that she was crashed against his chest. Immediately, her foot lashed out, aiming at the weak spot right under his knee, but the moment her sole left the ground, Bishop's boot hooked her other leg, sweeping her off the ground, and with a furious hiss she collapsed into his embrace fully, nearly wrenching her shoulder-joints in his grasp. Keeping her hands clasped to the small of her back, Bishop lifted her into the air, depriving of any secure foothold and, therefore, of a possibility to draw her leg back enough for another kick. Gnashing her teeth, she strained at his grip, trying to wriggle herself free, but it was as useless as fighting clutches of steel vice. Snide smirk was still curving his lips, laughing sparks danced in his eyes, and, enraged by her own feebleness, Adele spat at him. Tried to spit, actually, for her mouth was too dry from anger and curses. Wincing a bit, but still smirking, the ranger gathered both of her wrists with one hand, while the other made its way to the back of her neck, fingers entangling into her hair, and he forced her head towards him, covering her lips with his.

It wasn't a kiss - just a way of keeping her mouth closed, and the woman, robbed of any means to harm him, was left with nothing else to do but to sink her teeth into his lower lip. Bishop uttered a short grunt of surprise and pain, but didn't loosen his grip, making it even tighter, strong enough that she nearly heard her bones grinding. She struggled again, the skin of her wrists burning in his hold, palms growing numb as his grasp seemed to stop the flow of blood in her veins. Already foreseeing her own defeat, she still tried to jerk at least her face away, but it only led to his fingers grabbing her hair more roughly, his mouth pressing harder on hers. Her head spun, mind reeled from rage mingling with helplessness, from the taste of his blood in her mouth, from the stung of his stubble on her skin, from the frustrating strength of his clutches, from the unfeasible want of hurting him, want of making him suffer, want of him destroyed, want of _him_…

…And the next thing she knew she _was_ kissing him, not capable to tell whether she was doing it by herself or in return, but kissing, simply unable _not to_. Some distant part of her brain registered that her feet were already on the ground, that his arms were no longer grabbing her, but holding, that _her_ arms were wrapped around him, fingers grazing his shoulders, his neck, plunging into the leather of his armour, rough fabric of his cloak, his own flesh; her lips drawing his mercilessly, teeth grinding against teeth… It felt much better than kicking the meek tree, so much better, and she threw all her anger, her fear, everything that boiled inside of her into one single ravaging kiss, scourging the inside of his mouth with her tongue – and it was leaving, bleeding out of her, dissolving in the cool misty gloom of Duskwood…

Finally, Adele broke free, pushing the ranger away, gasping for air, and shrank back in advance, her body tense in anticipation of his possible move. But he didn't shift from the spot, so she relaxed, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth and spitting his blood to the ground. She didn't look at him, not sure if she could handle his gaze, but out of the corner of her eye saw him passing his fingers over his chin and staring at the red smears covering them. He flinched, his voice barely managing to pierce through the hammering of her pulse:

"Damn, that hurts."

The woman chuckled, echoes of rage still colouring her tone, her head light and disturbingly empty:

"Your fault. I said that no one is to follow me."

"I heard," he answered indifferently, picking a tiny vial of healing potion from his belt. After opening it, he pressed his thumb to its neck and dropped the vessel upside-down, allowing the liquid to wet his finger, then placed it to the bite. "But you surely needed to let some steam out."

"…?" she did look at him this time, incredulously, unwilling to believe what she had presumed. "You mean you came to… calm me down?"

Bishop shrugged, slipped the potion back into his belt-pouch and put his thumb away from his lower lip, briefly examining drops of blood on it. The tiny gash had sealed, leaving a faint scar-like mark, which he obviously wasn't concerned to heal further. "Someone had to. Thought about kicking out the druidess, but she would've started appeasing you, stroking your hair, maybe picked you some flowers… when all you really needed was a good-old yell."

"So you…?" Adele waved her hand, not really sure what exactly she wanted to say with the gesture.

He rolled his eyes: "I've had enough of the redhead bitch already, princess. And the last thing I want in Duskwood is _another_ hysteric wench, that'll blow up on her way from suppressed aggression."

She wanted to answer, at least something, but couldn't come up with any suitable words, any adequate phrase to voice her gratitude – not to mention that she wasn't even positive she _was_ grateful at all – so she simply threw her hands in the air: "Why…? Just… _why_…?"

"Because I don't want to end up dead over your bunch."

"That's not what I meant! Why are you always doing even the _right_ things in such a manner, that I want to strangle you, tear you apart and… I don't know… devour you!"

Bishop snorted: "You can try. Just keep in mind that I once met a she-bear with exactly the same intentions. I killed her," he let his gaze travel down the length of her body, familiar ribald look entering his eyes. "But if you insist…"

"Oh, go to Hells," she turned away, only now feeling how weak her legs had become, and came up to the tree, pulling her rapier out of the trunk.

He chuckled behind her back: "It breaks my heart to hear something like that from a woman who nearly sucked my stomach out through my throat a minute before."

She closed her eyes: "I was angry."

The ranger didn't respond, and Adele, still not facing him, sheathed her weapon, slowly, so that the blade didn't slip in her trembling hands.

"So you are saying," his whisper suddenly came right into her ear, and her knees nearly gave away under her, "that you only do it when you are angry, hmm? It's worth knowing."

Adele licked her lips, still pricking from the previous escapade, and stared straight ahead, into the tree, feeling his breath swamping her skin with heat. It was pointless arguing with him, anyway. Any confrontation only led him to applying more pressure. In physical sense as well as in mental, so she discovered. No, this needed a different approach…

Sweeping all her strength and willpower into one fist, she tuned abruptly towards him, grabbing the upper buckle on the front of his leathers, jerking him towards her, and captured his lips with her own again. His mouth stayed shut tightly against the kiss – not like she cared - and Adele idly trailed her tongue over the bite, licking away the leftovers of his blood, before pulled away slowly, daring him to say or do something. He didn't, not willing to fall for the bait, but not backing off from it either. Narrowed amber eyes followed her every move, every change in her face, cold, calculating, and she smiled, tracing the edge of his buckle with her fingers.

"I do it when I want to," she purred softly. "_Only_ when I want to. So… even though you are as _charming_ as a man can be, nothing will happen unless I suddenly _decide_ so. After all," she stroke the clasp that held his cloak, then the fabric itself, smoothing the creases, and lifted her eyes to his, arching her brow, "…two can play the game, huh?"

"…You do understand you are asking for troubles?" he murmured at last.

"You do understand you'll get them back?" she returned in the same tone.

Crooked smirk snaked back to his lips, as amusement won the battle against irritation. Or seemingly so. "Never said I didn't like my share of troubles."

She allowed herself an indulgent mother-like smile: "That's a good boy."

His smirk hardened, its cutting edge appearing almost severely sharp, the scales once again wavering towards annoyance. "Careful, princess. You are pretty – but not _that_ pretty."

"Lucky me, then," she grinned, patting his chest lightly, and stepped back, suddenly all too aware of how her body loathed to distance itself from the ranger.

_Stay put, you stupid meat__, _- she ordered mentally.

Ignoring her hormones whimpering in protest, she passed Bishop by, leaving him standing on the clearing, and strode away without another word – but allowed herself a small mute jeer, giving her hips a showy mocking sway on the first step. Quiet rustle of a chuckle from behind her back was a confirmation that it didn't go unnoticed.

_Right, laugh while you can, you dirty damned bastard,_ - she thought with some kind of grim satisfaction. – _You'll be scrabbling on all four before you even notice. Since you want to be a scum, I'll deal with you like one. And no offence later._

But even with those conclusions, she couldn't resist the temptation and sucked in her swollen lower lip, biting it lightly to savour the tingle still lingering on it. And much to her surprise realized that during her whole clash with the ranger not a shade of thoughts of Luskan or the trial entered her mind…

…Coming up to the camp still veiled in the shroud of smell that drove away the animals, she tarried, running her hand over her hair to sleek it – and screwed her eyes tight in unspoken curse when she didn't find the hat on her head. Why would she, since it had been left lying on the ground.

_Oh, good, Delly. For a circumspect schemer you surely have sieve of a memory._

_Hells with it. I never liked it anyway._

The fire was already lit, Shandra fussing around it, somehow managing to stew strips of dried meat into something juicy and terrifically smelling. Khelgar and Neeshka, sitting close to each other, both met Adele with identical jokingly hurt and guilty looks of two children smacked by their mother. Elanee, curled near the tree, gave her an inquiring gaze, but seeing that the woman had already calmed was probably enough for her, without any words. Sand chose to submerge back into his records, which earned him rare disdainful glances of Qara – but the girl herself had obviously settled down, and Duskwood was spared from the fate of being burnt down. Grobnar climbed on the huge log, fidgeting in his place, and dangled his legs, but somehow nervously. Casavir took place beside him, but, as Adele went up to them, rose to his feet, his face collected.

"I think I shall speak on behalf of us all when I say we are sorry for…" he didn't finish, seeing a grin breaking on Adele's lips, and frowned slightly.

"Casavir," she chuckled, "you actually realize you are apologizing to a girl who had thrown a toddler's tantrum and run off to kick a tree? Come on, drop it."

The paladin cleared his throat. "I see," he muttered, then inclined his head, giving her the faintest of smiles. "Very well then, I apologize for apologizing."

"I accept," she nodded with the same court-like air, but another grin ruined it. "But for all of you to know - I'm not taking a word back," she looked at Shandra, who froze in the middle of handing the woman a plate. Smiling at her, Adele took her helping of meat and sat between Sand and feet of Grobnar, which weren't touching the ground. "So, whose grand idea it was to send _Bishop_ after me?"

Several glances moved around, just now becoming aware that the ranger wasn't even there. Only Casavir, his stare growing grim, and both elves didn't move.

"Uh… Bishop's?" Neeshka finally offered, then smiled broadly in feigned sadistic glee. "You killed him?"

"No," Adele smirked, switching to her food. "Don't want to get out of this wood on my own."

Hooking a piece of tough meat, she made a path with it in the gravy. Silence was again reigned over the camp, but without lifting her head Adele could feel her companions looking at each other while passing around their own plates, mutely arguing about who was to strike up a conversation. Grobnar began dangling his legs even more fervently. Most likely, any silence oppressed him in itself.

"Have you noticed that the air here actually shimmers?" he launched out at last, making others stare at him, and answered with a wide smile. "No, really! If you take time to look intently into one spot, tiny white spangles appear in your eyes! Fascinating, isn't it? And if you cast your eyes to the side quickly enough, those spangles begin to spin. I've done it many times already, you should try."

"What for? To fall off the log like you did?" Qara snorted.

"Well, no, falling off wasn't my initial goal, but every experience is still an experience!"

"…Actually, you're right, there _are_ spangles," Neeshka observed, looking into space.

"I'm right? Again?" Grobnar grinned. "My, what a successful day for me. I was worried it is one of those times I'm talking rubbish again."

"The gnome's talking rubbish again?" Bishop spoke up, stepping out of shadows, on his way dropping the all too familiar hat on Adele's knees. The woman cringed at the mere sight of it, wondering if that reaction was the main reason for Bishop to bring it.

"Why, no, sir Bishop. I appeared to be right this time. Even sort of… refreshing, really. And striking, too! If _this_ is not a proof enough for the Wendersnaven's existence, then I don't have an idea what is."

"…Indeed," Sand muttered, glancing up at him shortly from his journal.

"I don't even know what this Wender-thing _is_," Adele sighed.

"It's Wender_snaven_, miss Adele," the gnome corrected her genially. "And don't feel bad about not knowing. It is impossible to actually _know_ the Wendersnaven – since by their nature they are unknowable!"

By then even Shandra tore her attention off the pot on the fire, looking at Grobnar in utter confusion, and Grobnar regarded all of them in turn, clearly surprised that they didn't get his meaning.

"Well…" he climbed on the log fully, even jumped a bit, trying to find suitable words. "You see, they… they see everything, know everything and exist everywhere and nowhere at once! It's truly quite amazing, isn't it?"

"And as fascinating as a rotten log," Bishop added, settling himself at the edge of the camp, where Adele didn't see him. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

Grobnar blinked: "I… I can't really tell whether this simile is appropriate. In what way _exactly_ does a rotten log fascinate you, sir Bishop? To some extend I have to admit that, yes, rotten logs can be fascinating, but…"

"By all the gods," Sand drawled quietly, his eyes glued to the expatiating gnome. "This is the most striking example of an infested and at the same time rarefied mind I have come across."

Adele shrugged, "But he's always ready to break an awkward pause."

"…True," the elf smiled. "Quite a cognitive journey it turns out to be. At this rate I might soon want to thank Nevalle for it."

"—and the size of the Wendersnaven is also a great source of speculation," Grobnar went on, for unfathomable reason picking out Shandra as his main audience. The blonde woman looked back at him, seeming uncertain if she should smile or run for her life. "Whether they are mighty invisible giants several hundred Khelgars high-"

The dwarf bended forward in his seat threateningly: "What did I tell ya 'bout usin' me as a unit of measurement?"

Grobnar gave a confused choke: "…several hundred Neeshkas high, stretching up to the clouds…"

The tiefling grinned, tilting her head: "Hey, that's actually kind of a nice image. Thanks, Grobnar."

The gnome broke into a grin himself: "Oh, my pleasure, miss Neeshka!" he stared back at Shandra. "So, several hundred Neeshkas, tail to tail, stretch to the clouds and… uhm… what are they doing it for? What was I about? …Ah, yes, the Wendersnaven! There is also another opinion, that they are so small they cannot be even seen with a naked eye. In any case it is impossible to spot them! Do you understand?"

"…Is he adressing me?" Shandra asked Qara in a whisper.

The sorceress shook her head: "Gods know," she raised her voice. "What you've said is total nonsense!"

"No, it's amazing!" Grobnar waved his hands. "Amazing! It's very easy to get nonsense and amazing confused, I found, but this is precisely the case of amazing. Isn't it? Really, isn't it?"

"I'll toss him in a well," Bishop promised.

"…And the meat got burnt," Shandra pointed, stirring the stew.

Adele grinned.

* * *

He watched her.

From his vantage point he could see her perfectly. Watched how she smiled, snickered, even laughed at the runt's ravings. Watched how easily she slipped back into her place among her gang – almost as easily as he did. Just dropping a couple of half-thought comments to make them mark that their damned ranger was there – and lose interest in him. So effortlessly handled fools.

But up to this moment he didn't realize _she_ was doing the same. A joke, a smirk, a nod – and she fell behind, her sharp tongue sheathed, her words reduced to a remark here and there, mostly allowing _them_ to speak, shout, discuss and rub shoulders with each other. Her pale face was calm and placid again. Almost as if it was some other woman that snarled, clawed and struggled in his arms less than an hour ago, held like a snake that would bite the moment you let go of her throat…

Bishop ran his tongue over the inner side of his lip, finding a faint mark from her teeth there, and smirked. The idiot gnome was wrong. She was no spring, hitting back when forced to. She struck first. So soft and gentle when everything went her way – and nothing but freezing flogging rage when she felt she was loosing it. Not a spring, no.

A whip.

A whip that felt hellishly good when lashing into him, her scrawny frame fitting so flawlessly into his grasp, her angry kiss as devastating as her fury… and just as burning.

_Well now, Duncan, who could have thought your __precious niece to be _such_ a treat?_

And so he watched, to some degree even enjoying the little play of the two-faced bitch. Watched as she listened to the gnome, watched as she bent her head slightly towards the wizard, commenting something – and leaving the elf smiling. She had always done _that_. Lowering her voice when talking to somebody, insensibly nudging them away one by one, appeasing and conversing each one individually, separately… Like a chameleon she blended with her surroundings, mirrored the one she wanted to hook, taking up needed face, picking up needed words…

So understanding, so attentive, so considerate…

_Divide and conquer._

In his mind, Bishop sneered.

Oh, he could play that game alright…


	24. XXIV: Matter of Aggravation

__

_A/N: About time the guys have some venting by hacking somebody to pieces, methinks:)_

_To Whoever whatever (as if that isn't a weirdest address :) – thank you and I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story._

* * *

**XXIV:** Matter of Aggravation

After they finally managed to stopple Grobnar's mouth with food and have a snack themselves, they went further. It was still a couple of hours before sunset, hours that shouldn't have been wasted on anything else than the road. Somehow the prospect of trampling through Duskwood at night wasn't exactly appealing. Adele understood that they moved along the periphery of the forest, yet they were within the reach of the most disturbing echo of the heart of the wood. Rustles and creaks were now sometimes followed by the noises of quite animal's origin. From time to time they heard distant howls that sounded like wolfish, but at the same time… different. Besides, Adele saw how at every burst of those howls Karnwyr jerked his head up, skimming over the surroundings, his yellow eyes gleaming, lips drawing back to reveal long wet hangs, ears flatting, grey fur standing on end on the back of his neck…

That wasn't encouraging. Not at all.

So Adele wasn't surprised to find her palm already lying on the hilt of her rapier – even more so, she felt immensely grateful to that trained palm, because was too much absorbed with the environment to think about what her body should do.

But no animals appeared, as if not even noticing the travelleres. Adele thought that, perhaps, it had something to do with the foul smell left from Bishop's potion back at the camp, for its traces still lingered on their clothes and hair. But casting occasional sidelong glances at Elanee, whose face appeared self-possessed bordering on strained, the woman guessed that their luck was partly due to the druidess as well. Sometimes Elanee returned her looks, escorting them with a slight encouraging smile, which grounded Adele in her guesses even more.

Others gradually took up the same order of walking they had kept before camp – as always united and perfect when there was little to no talking and, therefore, no possibilities for arguing. Adele was glad of the set queue, because it reduced her run-ins with the leading ranger almost to a naught, leaving her only following his shade in the distance, her eyes picking their beacon in the feathering of his arrows sticking out of the quiver, swaying slightly over his shoulder in tact with his steps.

She expected gibes, of course, implied insults and all other joys of the Bastardland, but during the hours passed Bishop refrained – though the woman couldn't shake off the feeling that after their clash his sudden silence screamed louder than any words or actions. It was as if Bishop had somehow developed new, even deeper level of mockery, worse than before because now it existed only for the two of them. She couldn't deny that she had it coming, so paid back in kind, cutting down what little encounters they had to mute dialogues between a quirked up eyebrow and a soft blank smile. That earned them understandable wary glances of others, like they expected the pair to try and tear each other throats every moment. Only Neeshka looked suspiciously wily. But the tiefling never really needed any special encouragement to appear mischievous.

"Hold on," Bishop's voice broke through her thoughts, and she winced at the sudden déjà vu caused by the words and the tone, the very words and tone he had had when he spotted an ambush at Ember. Collecting herself, she looked around to fathom what was wrong this time.

They descended yet another small hill, finding themselves on a clearing. Not like they hadn't encountered several on their way, but this one was different. It surrounded a single tree, mighty, harsh and just as grey as everything in the forest. No other vegetation, not even a single bush dared to grow close to it, and the only occupant of the clearing stood prominent in its proud solitude. There was no wind, and withered stranded leaves that fell lazily from the branches seemed to float in the air, nearly freezing there, before landing on the cold ground, appearing almost black in Duskwood gloom.

"…Creepy tree," Neeshka muttered near her right shoulder, also looking around, and Adele felt the tiefling's tail brush briskly over her own calf. Indeed, something about the tree drew attention. Something… wrong.

"Going to say 'hi' to it or what?" Qara grumbled, but her voice lacked its usual scorn, replaced with sheer weariness. Before any of them could reply, Elanee suddenly pushed herself between the sorceress and Neeshka, almost shoving them aside, and strode purposefully towards the tree. "By Kossuth's flames," the girl groaned, watching the elf making her way firmly, "I was joking!"

"El?" Adele called out for the druidess, but even if Elanee heard her, she didn't reply.

"Smells like a dryad," Bishop observed, running his thumb over the bowstring with an arrow prepared.

"Is it bad?" Adele asked quietly, rationally deciding that possibility of a threat to their lives was a fine enough reason to start using her voice on the ranger.

"Depends," seemed that Bishop was quite able of being rational, too. "Think the druid's about to find that out," the muscles in his cheeks twitched as he clenched his jaws, "and make it bad."

Adele didn't answer, already going deeper into the clearing to catch up with Elanee.

"Heh, tree-hugger," Khelgar muttered into his beard, but followed nonetheless.

"…El?"

The druidess stopped, throwing her head a bit back to take in the whole tree. "Show yourself, sprite," she ordered, and there was no mistaking of detest in her voice that made Adele slower her steps and reach for her weapon once again. "I can feel your taint heavy in this place, so you won't fool me."

"El, what the…?"

Adele didn't finish her question and took an involuntary step back, when the bark on the huge stem started moving. The others also stopped, without any agreement forming a semi-circle around the tree, ready to fight if and whatever needed. All the chaps and wrinkles of the bark crawled, flowing together, blending with each other, and a moment later a thin arm, just as grey, worked itself free from the tree. Long fingers grabbed the nearest branch firmly, using it as a hold to draw out the elbow, then the bicep, the shoulder, the neck – and then, finally, the head, crowned with a shock of thick matted hair of dirty-green that fell freely over the face, beautiful but stolid, clear-cut, as if carved out of timber by the sharpest of knives. Eyes without any whites or iris, of the same dull grey colour, found Elanee easily, and the dryad's lips parted, letting out a harsh rustling voice, that sounded like a wind forcing its way through dry leaves and broken branches:

"And what claim do _you_ have over this place, druid, to come here and demand me facing you?" her gaze slid over the rest of them, then stopped on Adele, face hardening. "Lorne! What stupid joke is this?"

_Lorne…?_

Adele blinked, but, thankfully, wasn't able to answer right away, as at that moment Sand stared pointedly at her: "Yes, _Lorne_, explain yourself to the lady."

_…He's kidding, right? They are all kidding… _

"What…?" Casavir started to object, but Neeshka's foot landed firmly on his, and the paladin lapsed into silence, glancing at the tiefling with bewilderment.

Adele licked her lips, not tearing her eyes off the dryad, who regarded her in return with a contemptuous gaze that only briefly flicked back to Elanee.

"Is this your plaything?" the tree-nymph mocked. "Did _she_ take you so long to come back?"

"_She_ is right here, sprite," the elf answered coldly, "and she prefers to be addressed directly."

"I bet she does," the dryad laughed. "Have you not told her of our dealing, Lorne? Or she thinks you were _born_ such a delicate blood-thirsty female?"

Elanee's eyes widened, disdain in them fading to pure anger, and Adele felt her own blood freeze in her veins as they, probably, shared the same thought.

_She did it. She helped the godsdamned Garius' dog to disguise himself._

"It does not matter what she thinks," Adele's voice came out more of a snarl as she put her hands to her hips, allowing the bluff-river to take her away. The druidess fell back, giving her space and time, her whole frame rigid in apprehension. "Our dealing is between you and me, others are of no importance. Leave them be," she added, hoping her companions would get the hint and use the time to prepare for a battle. Because, by the name of every frigging god, she was not going to let the sprite live a long happy life after she drew what information she could.

"You've grown bold, Lorne," the dryad scoffed, thankfully too taken by the impudence of her assumed accomplice to pay attention to others. Or, indeed, disregarding them as nothing more than puppets. "Especially for the one who _still _hadn't held his end of the bargain."

_…Cyric's balls, I hope that Luskan scum didn't promise to bed her in return or something._

She gave the dryad a cocky lopsided grin: "That's what I'm here for, honey."

"Are you?" the creature moved further, making the wood creak to reveal more of her body. The look on her face appeared nearly greedy. "Have you brought the stone, then?"

_Stone? What stone? _

"…No," Adele answered, making her tone sound incredulous. "You think it that easy?" she sneered. "Suppose not, seeing that you couldn't get it on your own."

"You…" the dryad uttered a low disappointed hiss. "I'm warning you, Lorne," she growled, and it took Adele all of her willpower not to grab the weapon. Her lips quirked into a small grim smile as she wondered if the sprite was aware how quickly she neared her own end every time she called her like that. "Stop trying me! Or you think the disguise will hold for ever? No, it won't! And don't expect me to lend you any more of the powder!"

At her side Sand pursed his lips, his eyes tightening as if he suddenly felt a sting of pain and did his best to conceal it. Not to let the dryad to switch her attention towards the elf, the woman tossed her head a bit, measuring the tree-nymph with her most firm gaze:

"Not like you have a choice, honey. Since you want that stone of yours that much."

The dryad bit her lip in frustration, then winced: "Fine. Take it and choke on it if you wish," she freed her other hand, tossing Adele a long slim flask of glowing powder. "Damned be the day I crossed paths with you, you treasonous human filth."

"Thankies," Adele cooed, catching the vessel in the air, and stepped back, her hand making its way towards the hilt.

"Now begone and get me the stone!"

"Wasn't going to stay for long, anyway. And don't worry, I'll make sure that _Lorne_ gets your message," she smiled, seeing the face of the dryad flowing with confusion that slowly grew into understanding and anger, and shrugged. "…Oops?"

With a furious yell the dryad launched forward, but Adele, expecting exactly that, swished her rapier through the air to cut her lunge short. The blade slashed across the sprite's chest, eliciting a dry scratching sound of metal on wood, and Adele leaped forward as the creature recoiled, aiming the tip of her weapon into the dryad's eye – but the sprite sank back into her tree, and the blade pierced only timber. Growling in aggravation, Adele looked up, following the outline of the dryad's body sliding under the surface of the trunk, slithering upwards, not stopped even by several well-aimed arrows that planted into her all the way up, getting stuck in the bark, dark blood pooling around them.

"Great," Adele muttered, turning her head at Bishop standing in the distance, who lowered his bow and spat between his teeth in disappointment. "And how do we get her-"

The ranger's eyes widened a bit, Casavir sprinted forward, Neeshka opened her mouth to shout something, and Adele trailed off, starting to turn back…

…and the world shattered to sparkling clinking pieces.

She couldn't have said how it happened, how in the Hells she found herself several feet away from the place she just stood in, thrown right into Khelgar, both of them ending on the ground – because just the moment her senses crawled back into her head, the _pain_ came with them, tearing down her scull. Adele groaned, squeezing her head with her hands, her right temple pulsating, swelling rapidly, and she only vaguely saw Casavir bringing his sword up to chop off a thick long branch that crashed from above like a tentacle. The same branch that had hit her in the head, sending her flying. The branch she hadn't _noticed_.

_Fucking hat._

"Lass?" she heard Khelgar's voice, the dwarf's worry probably taking over any discontent caused by the woman landing on him. "Ya in one piece?"

"…yup…" she mumbled – mewled, really – and tried to get to her feet, but failed miserably, screwing her eyes as the pain claimed her mind, turning the world around her into a collection of blurry aching blotches, "…ah, nope…"

Soft cool hand covered her forehead, another one placed on the back of her head, and Adele sighed in pleasure at the feeling of healing magic surging through her scull, dousing the flames raging there.

"I love you, El," she whispered, blinking her consciousness back.

"Uh-oh," somewhere behind her Neeshka murmured.

Glancing back over her shoulder, behind Elanee and Khelgar, Adele saw several massive shades moving along the edge of the clearing, circling them. With a low rumbling growl Karnwyr crouched, his hackles rising, muscles rolling tensely under his fur…

"Oh my," Grobnar exclaimed in common admiration.

There were almost a dozen of them, stepping out between the trees, wolves – but nothing like the wolves one might come to grow used to. Huge, every one of them the size of a horse, their sleek jet-black fur torn along the spines, letting out sharp outgrowths of their spinal bones that looked like additional claws…

As if those on their paws weren't enough.

"Gods," Shandra breathed out soundlessly.

"Welcome to Duskwood," Bishop smirked mirthlessly, drawing his bowstring.

"'Bout time, says me," Khelgar grinned, giving a long sway to his axe for the sake of warming-up.

"I cannot hold them back," Elanee said above Adele, the elf's palms still lying on her head, but the woman could feel how taut they became. "Their minds… they are different. And _her _corrupting will has more impact on them than mine."

"…Sucks for them, then," Adele grouched, grabbing her rapier and pushing herself up, on her feet. Duskwood swayed around her, but she paid little attention to that. She knew where _she_ was, standing firmly – and the rest of the world could dance a jig for all she cared. Or crawl with dire wolves as the case was. "Qara!" she called out, and the sorceress glanced at her questioningly. "Need to smoke the bitch out of her tree before she summoned something else. Can you manage?"

"…You bet," the girl grinned, turning away from the pack and focusing her attention on the tree sacrificed to her. "But you'd better keep those fleabags away from me."

"Deal," Adele smiled and looked at the gnome. "Grobnar, stay back, closer to Qara and Sand." The gnome nodded and retreated into the center of their group, loading his small crossbow.

"So be it," Casavir agreed, standing beside her, locking the circle they had formed in the middle of the pack surrounding them. It didn't escape Adele how the paladin stole a glance at her, probably noticing her trying hard to focus her vision. "Are you well?"

"Well enough for a careless fool," she smiled gloomily, looking straight at the approaching beasts. "Though the blow was mighty, that I can tell. If there'd been brains inside, could have been a concussion."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shake his head in defeat in trying to reach her seriousness, but at least it switched the paladin's attention to where it belonged – the danger at hand. Adele herself reached for Shandra, dragging the blonde woman closer and feeling the shiver rushing through the farmer's muscles. Shandra gazed at her silently.

"Listen to me," Adele uttered firmly. "Stay close. You and I are side by side. You are the right hand, I'm the left one. You strike a blow, I adapt and add to it. We are going to make it. Got it?"

Shandra pursed her whitened lips and nodded, shifting her eyes back at the advancing wolves.

The air around them wavered, thickened, enveloping the group in hazy sphere. Throwing a quick look at Sand behind her, Adele saw him whispering something under his nose and thought better than to call out for him and disrupt his casting. Everyone seemed to be ready and fine, and it was all she could do to make sure they stayed that way. Probably, it wasn't the best of ideas to taunt the dryad up to this, bringing a whole pack of wolves on their heads – but doubt and fear mattered little already, so she pushed it away, allowed it to be drown in the exhilarated thrill, some irrational foretaste of a battle only Khelgar and Qara seemed to be familiar with, an anticipation that set her heart to a tap dance, speeding up the pulse even in the tiniest of vessels, making her pleasurably _aware _of every particle of her body.

_I've made it this far,_ - that part of her whispered in triumph. –_ Surely I can make it further._

One of the wolves, its hide already thick-sown with arrows, stumbled in its tracks, but stubbornly made its way towards them – until, finally, another arrow found the mark in its eye, cutting deep into the head through the socket. The beast collapsed on the ground, staining the grass with blood and spittle dribbling out of its mouth.

And like its death was a silent command, the other wolves sprinted into attack.

Two or three of them were thrown on the ground, teeth clattering at the harsh snapping of jaws, their legs bound with the vines of Elanee's entangling spells, and one threw its head back, howling in frustration, but dropped dead, Neeshka's knives sinking in his furry throat. The rest of the beasts made their way forward, rapidly, but the moment their black bulks stepped into the energy field Sand had established, their movements grew slow, muscles straining visibly, as if tearing through the shield was physically hard. Adele heard a joyful battle-cry behind her – a certain declaration that one of the animals got his full of a dwarven axe. Adele didn't look back – she didn't need to, for she knew everything was under control there. Strident yelp of the beast that followed only confirmed it.

Instead she kept her attention on Shandra, kept right until the moment the farmer delivered her first blow on the wolf that rushed at them, her sword slashing its gaping mouth. Blood splashed into her face, and on instinct Shandra shut her eyes, but Adele shoved her, pushing her away, breaking their hold to let the wounded beast slide between them. Massive carcass flashed by, and Adele spun on her heels, grasping Shandra's elbow, drawing her close and squeezing her arm, making her open her eyes, pay attention. The wolf swung round, its claws furrowing the soil, but Adele had her second to pierce its side, kicking it hard to wrench her rapier free quickly and at the same time pushing herself away, to have time for the next charge and giving space for Shandra's move as well. Their swap showered the beast with slashes and stabs without any break, splitting its hide and flesh, leaving no chance of answering, until it was nothing more than a battered pile.

From her side came a sickening wet crack as Casavir met another wolf, slamming his shield into its muzzle hard enough to break the animal's scull and neck, and pushed forward, forcing the hulk away. Done with that, he turned in time to keep another beast from breaking through their protective field, somehow managing to maintain the same unruffled concentration, wielding his weapon accurately, without any trace of haste. Grobnar padded close to him, the gnome's tiny frame providing him perfect protection behind the paladin and his shield, and fired his crossbow undisturbed. Neeshka glided behind Khelgar, taking advantage of his shortness to throw her knives over his head at those creatures that moved back from the enthusiastic dwarf, keeping their distance for a jump.

One beast, the largest, probably their Alpha, kept back all the time, pacing slowly in the background, on the nearest slope of the hill, its gaze fixed on the middle of the company, the mages, taking them as the easiest targets, looking for a chink in defense. As another of the creatures fell and Adele had to step to the side not to be buried under its hulk, the Alpha jumped, and the woman cursed as the huge shadow flashed above her. She turned back, ready to launch at the wolf as it landed, but wasn't able to, as Karnwyr had already had a leap of his own, cutting the beast's way, plunging into its side, and they rolled away in a furry tangle of fangs and claws. The dire wolf appeared stronger, crashing his rival and throwing him away to bleed at the feet of his master, who was spending the last of his arrows. Adele wanted to scream to warn the ranger, seeing the creature crouching for another lunge, but without warning or even looking Bishop seemed to be aware of the danger. Dropping his longbow, shoving the quiver off, Bishop drew his blades, facing the wolf. It sprang at him, and the ranger dove forward, to the ground, rolling over his shoulder until he was on his back right under the beast's belly, and, without stopping his tumble, cut both weapons deep into the unprotected flesh, dragging them along with his move, ripping the creature's abdomen open. The wolf howled in pain, sinking to the ground with all his weight, but Bishop had time to roll away, in some inexplicable way managing to end his tumble on his feet, and finished the beast off with a gash to its throat.

Adele looked around, trying to find her bearing in the chaos around her, and gasped when a wave of heat covered her, showering the woman with burning wood flinders. The tree burst from the inside, cleaving in two, and the dryad's slim form, thrown out of it, fell to the ground. Turning over to her stomach, the sprite made a move towards the forest, but Khelgar's axe came down on her neck, chopping off any chance of escape.

And it was all over.

Two of the remaining wolves, giants as they were, cowered under Elanee's gaze, whining and crawling away. The elf, ruffled but unharmed, took a step towards them, and they needed no other reasoning to retreat back to their forest. Adele heaved a relieved sigh, ignoring the stinging ache in her chest, wiped her forehead dry from the sweat, tucking loose tresses behind her ears, and looked at Shandra by her side. The other woman seemed to come back to her senses after the battle, her tremor coming back as well – but it was another kind of tremor, not a frightened one, but more of a surprised, as if the farmer, glancing around, wasn't able to come to terms with the fact she was still alive. Feeling Adele's gaze, she stared back, and the woman couldn't fight back a smile at how bizarre those round eyes looked on a frozen blood-covered face.

"See?" she squeezed her shoulder. "Told you we were going to make it."

Khelgar came up to them, grinning widely even despite his apparent limping, and gave Shandra an affectionate clap on her back, making the woman stumble several feet forward. "Battle-tried now, eh? The first tavern we come across - ale at my expense!"

Shandra gave a short laugh, a tad hysterical, then cast one more long look over the carnage.

"What's with the leg?" Adele asked the dwarf.

"Bah, nothin'. One pup's got lucky, that's all."

Adele nodded, turning to others. Sand, sallow and somewhat lost, sat right on the ground, cradling his head in his palms and trying to collect himself after his spell that drained him of whatever power Duskwood hadn't. Qara, who wasn't lucky enough to avoid some blood-splash, stood next to him, leaning heavily on her staff poked into the ground, her face ashen, eyes fixed straight ahead, though clearly not seeing a thing. As Adele stepped to them, shivering a bit and feeling herself ineffably fortunate that she was deprived of any magical abilities, Qara spared her a grim glance.

"…Feeling… tolerable?" she wondered, biting her tongue back in time not to blurt out 'good' or any other obviously unsuitable crap. "You did great, by the way."

Qara scowled at her. "I've got bowel in my hair."

Adele glanced at the girl's head and pursed her lips to prevent a snicker, brushing off the offending piece. "No more. Unless you wanted to keep it, of course." As the girl's frown didn't ease, she smirked. "We are going to set for the night now."

"We'd better," the sorceress nodded pointedly, gripping her staff even more tightly, preventing a fall.

"I think we should get away from here as soon as possible," Casavir stated, not yet sheathing his sword, but lowering his shield at least, drops of blood painting slow crimson paths on its surface. "The carrion might attract other predators."

"It would not," Elanee answered simply, her face appearing almost blissful. Never before had Adele expected the druidess to be so glad of someone's death. "The rest of the forest felt that something was out of place here, so they shunned this clearing."

"Anyway, the rest is scheduled," Adele rounded, placing her hand on Sand's shoulder, getting an exhausted but encouragingly sensible glance in return.

"The flask?" the wizard asked quietly.

"Right here," Adele showed him the vial, then slipped it back into her belt-pouch.

"Keep it," he nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Alternation powder… Mystra, should have suspected they used something like that – a reagent that would leave no trace of arcane. And from a source that wouldn't be tracked down easily."

Her eyes travelled over the carnage, and she smirked at what was left of the 'source', "She called me 'Lorne'. That means it was the Garius muscle himself in charge of the whole thing, right?"

"I suppose so. Let us hope it's because our Luskan high-flier is short of men."

"My, Sand, never would have guessed you are an optimist."

The elf only smiled faintly in return, too tired to come up with any barb. Adele left him be, her own body strangely full of energy, the muscles in her arms and legs humming with adrenaline and victory. She only hoped they would get to some safe place before the second wind she had caught left her – after which Adele knew she would be nothing more than a useless drowsing heap.

Neeshka, with the help of Grobnar, was retrieving her daggers hastily, throwing wary looks at the woods around, not quite convinced by Elanee's assurance that they were left in peace for the time. Bishop also made his way among the corpses, pulling his arrows out, shaking blood and fur off them, then shoved the undamaged ones back into the quiver, with quiet curses throwing away those broken. Wolves' claws left little of his cloak, but otherwise the ranger appeared unharmed. The same couldn't be said about Karnwyr, though, who licked clean his damaged hind leg and sometimes shook his head to ease the pain in the torn bleeding ear and rugged neck.

"Elanee will tend to him," Adele said, nodding at Karnwyr.

Bishop gave his head a single shake, not pausing in his task of picking out arrows: "No one will touch him apart from me, princess."

The woman rolled her eyes mentally, "Tend to him, not eat him." With that she stretched her arm out to wipe some blood from Karnwyr's fur, but had to jerk her hand back as the wolf snarled, shrinking away from her and puffing up twice his size, his eyes flashing dangerously at her unwanted invasion. Adele frowned in confusion, drawing herself up slowly, so that none of her movements could be interpreted as a threat.

"Told you," Bishop chuckled, glancing at them shortly, then nodded somewhere to the east, forestalling a possible question. "Round up your herd - there should be a cave not far, about half an hour walk from here. With a brook nearby."

"…Good," she answered, watching him closely, awaiting for some comment that was supposed to ruin his nearly good-natured tone. None came, again leaving her with the feeling that she had simply missed something implied. "Well then," she turned back to others, "everyone good for walking?"

"Always, miss Adele," Grobnar beamed at her, and she smiled in return at the gnome's endless eagerness.

"Seeing as we have no choice," Sand sighed, grabbing the staff Qara was still leaning on, and pulled himself upwards heavily, ignoring the gape of the sorceress scandalized at his defilement of her weapon. Whisking off some dirt and grass that got stuck to his robes, the wizard adjusted the collar and made several unsteady, but successful steps.

Qara followed him, though was not so triumphant in her attempt to keep balance, and gave a dangerous careen that would have certainly ended in her dropping to the ground, if Elanee hadn't stepped to her side, steadying the girl with her shoulder.

"I'm _fine_," the sorceress snapped, almost insulted by help.

"_I_ am not," Elanee answered calmly, placing a hand on her forearm. "Please, let me go alongside, so I could lean on you if needed."

"…Great," the girl snorted, "found yourself a fencepost." But she didn't move away, settling on the druidess' obvious lie since it let her save the face and prevent from falling at the same time.

Adele waited for the rest to come up: Neeshka and Khelgar already arguing about something, something clearly unimportant, simply for the sake of talking, of hearing each other's voices, sort of a jovial proof that were all alive and breathing; Shandra, silently rolling her shoulders and still looking around for probably the same reason. Casavir was bringing up the rear, with his shield slung over his back, his movements as usual sparse but precise even in simple walking. As he came alongside with her, Adele saw him look at her ill-fated bruise and arched her brow.

"This needs to be healed properly," the paladin said quietly, reaching out with his free hand to probe her temple carefully. Coolness of his glove against the damaged skin was so much welcomed that Adele felt close to purring. "There might be a fracture; it's hard to tell at first sight."

"Nah, Elanee's spell was enough, doesn't even hurt anymore," she shrugged. "Famous Harbourmen's thick sculls and all."

"…I suppose I'll have to take your word on that," he answered, taking his hand away, but his voice sounded uncertain, his eyes still on the wound.

She heard the barely discernable sound of steps this time, was able to catch it even before Casavir's gaze shifted to stare at something behind her back, and mentally praised herself for not jumping when Bishop's caustic voice reached her from behind:

"Ready to go, princess? Or you need time to knock your head against something else?"

_Ah, and here comes the gibe._

For a moment she thought about shooting something back, but then again, he was unharmed while she had a bruise on a good half of her face – so she was surely not the one to get all worked up over a truthful dig he was in full right of.

"Ready," she replied, sliding her gaze over the ground to find the blasted thing she was reminded of. Spotting the hat not far away, she picked it up and with no small pleasure crumpled it mercilessly into a shapeless bundle before shoving it into her pack. _Should have done it a long time ago. _Done with that, she turned to the ranger, unsurprised to find him watching her. He did have blood on his face too, its drops forming tiny dark beads in his stubble, but at least it was not his blood.

"Good. And the next time you feel like getting yourself killed – try a bit harder."

"Enough of it, Bishop," Casavir cut off, his irritation catching Adele totally off guard. She glanced at him blankly, wondering why the ranger's words rubbed him so much, when they had no effect on _her_. "She had no wish of bringing harm on herself. Just not everything can be foreseen."

"What a keen observation," Bishop's lips curved into something between a smirk and a grimace. "I bet everyone in Ember would have gladly signed off on it. Ah, but they can't, they are _dead_."

Taking a slow exasperated breath, Adele moved in between them, placing a palm on each man's chest and pushing them away before any more words were spoken. With Bishop she might have as well tried to move a stone wall, but at least Casavir had the decency to make a step back, putting enough distance between himself and the ranger.

"Thought we discussed all the biting-each-other-over-my-issue business," she pointed out, looking between the two of them. "Even if you hadn't taken my words seriously, just indulge a lady's vagary. Please."

Casavir, fortunately, chose to remain silent, only nodded asset, shifting his shoulder to adjust the shield, ready to go. But as she was looking at him, she felt her hand, still lying on Bishop's chest, shudder a bit, and glared at the ranger to discover him swallowing a laugh.

"It doesn't really take much to piss you off, eh?" lazily lidded eyes regarded her up and down. "Or is it just that every fight gets your blood boiling?"

_…Ouch, _- her inner voice whispered huskily, but Adele held her gaze from trailing down from his eyes, lower, towards his lip in sudden wish to find that tiny mark she had left there.

Even without looking she felt Casavir stiffen, but managed to throw up a warning index finger to stop him, still pinning the ranger with her glare, and gave Bishop a short non-amused smile.

"Now that you're done joking and I laughing," she went on in the same even tone, "let's get moving before we lost both our mages."

"Should we?" he sniffed, glancing shortly away, at Sand and Qara, the latter already only half-conscious on Elanee's shoulder. "These magicians are a waste of space if you ask me."

Adele snorted: "Uh-huh. Considering one of them made a tree explode to pieces and the other is about to drag me through the trial. It's a good thing I don't ask you." His eyes snapped to hers, still hooded, unreadable, and she sighed, softening her voice conciliatory: "Just lead the way, ranger, and leave space arrangements to me."

That was the moment she realized her tactical mistake – a mistake of leaving her hand resting on his chest, as his palm went up, enveloping her fingers and pressing them lightly to his heart, his soles rustling quietly against the ground as he brought them together, giving her a perfect mockery of a soldier-like click of heels.

"As you wish, m'lady," he whispered, laughter swirling in his eyes, and Adele lowered her lids in no less mocking acceptance, steeling herself against the wish to tear her hand free and run the Hells away or at least punch him a good one for wearing those gloves with cut off fingers that made his coarse skin brush against her unprotected palm as he let go of her. Looking at her for one or two more moments, he glanced up above her shoulder at the paladin and smirked dryly before turning away, "Bow-wow."

Adele closed her eyes helplessly as he stalked away, then sighed and turned to Casavir. "Just pretend he doesn't exist," she said quietly, seeing his grave expression as he watched the ranger leaving.

The paladin didn't react at once, but finally nodded, averting his gaze. "I apologize for my part in this… wrangle," he answered just as quietly. "The man truly calls forth the worst of me."

"Not only of you," she smiled. "Just think like this – you only have to deal with him from time to time, while he lives his whole life a jerk like that. Enough to feel sorry for him, no?"

He didn't answer, but his face seemed to soften in amusement, and Adele patted him lightly on the arm, both of them resuming their walking to catch up with others who already started to follow Bishop. As Adele came close, Neeshka threw her a glance over shoulder, her face split into a grin, so broad Grobnar could take a lesson.

"Not a word," Adele murmured. "Or next time I'll send _you_ to deal with those two."

The tiefling snickered and shook her head, but remained silent. Though her snigger was always a nice thing to hear, so Adele smiled in earnest, looking back briefly to make sure they left nothing and no one behind. Nope, only huge shades of the killed wolves and the smoldering carcass of what once was a tree.

"Ain't we nice guys?" she sniffed quietly to herself, falling in steps with Sand.

"At least, the whole picture starts to get clearer," the wizard observed, thankfully able to keep focused on important things. "Though I am wondering how exactly our executors had managed to strike a deal with the dryad."

The woman shrugged: "Think we should have kept her alive and asked? Had no wish to, honestly," she smirked. "But, to think, she would have made a striking witness on the trial."

"Indeed, that would have been rather… unorthodox."

"Wow," Neeshka grinned. "Another neat word. What does it mean?"

* * *

The cave was deep enough to light a fire without attracting attention to it from the forest. Qara was the first to collapse into sleep, so quickly that it seemed like she simply fainted. But her face was regaining its normal colour, so she only ended up being wrapped in several blankets, dragged closer to the fire and then left undisturbed. Sand, also more or less recovered, sorted out his own pack, producing several healing potions that appeared handy. Khelgar's injure was more serious than the dwarf wanted to admit, but after a dressing and a remedy washed down by a gulp of ale, he begrudgingly agreed to be left out of the watch schedule and settled against the wall, where sleep claimed him shortly after. Shandra, too, took little time to fall asleep, never uttering a word after the battle, not minding (or not noticing) Grobnar who used her blanket-covered side as a table for his journal, writing something down frantically. Casavir, removing the largest pieces of his plate-mail for rest, also revealed several nasty-looking bruises on his left arm, where the straps of his shield and the shield itself pressed into flesh under the force of repelled attacks. The paladin accepted a healing potion, but otherwise showed no signs of pain.

Though water in a nearby brook appeared to be chilling, it had to do to wash down blood and gore. Adele, for one, even found some comfort in the feel of ice-cold moisture splashed over her burning livid spot that took freedom to crawl further from her temple - to her forehead and cheek, sending annoying droll into her eye. She considered a potion, but brushed it off quickly – a black-eye was no threat to her overall heath and physical abilities, and there was no reason for vanity. Not like beasts of Duskwood cared for her good looks or anything. To prolong the comforting cooling feeling, she chose a small alcove in the cave as her resting place, half-sitting with her back against the wall and leaning her injured temple to cold stone.

The chill from the wash made those awake get closer to the fire. Even Karnwyr, his damaged leg reset by his master, squeezed himself between Neeshka and Elanee, though his gaze remained grim, making it obvious that being this close to them gave him no joy. The ranger left back for the clearing, to skin the killed wolves, leave the hides for drying and pick up on their way back from Ember – furriers in Neverwinter paid well for skins of Duskwood beasts, it seemed. As Sand elaborated, everything and everyone inhabiting it imbibed part of the forest's ability to damper magics, so the wolves' skins were eagerly spent on protecting leathers, clothes and foot-gear, while the wood, strong but flexible, was wonderful for weapons. Adele herself seemed to recall how Daeghun appreciated his Duskwood longbow.

The wizard spent the rest of the evening contemplating how their encounter with the dryad and all concerned could be used on the trial, not noticing how his thoughtfulness faded peacefully to a dream. Others took their rest as well, leaving the first watch to Casavir, who busied himself with cleaning his weapon. Slowly, but Adele also succumbed to her sleep, lulled by the crackling of a fire, soft sound of a whetstone on metal, slightly tickling spicy smell of dried blood from the furs and – probably irrational but nonetheless strong – feeling of safety she was wrapped in. She had been freed of the watch for the night, so slipped into her dream with her conscience clear and her mind looking forward to a long-needed rest…

* * *

…destroyed mercilessly as her sleep ran off, the dull ache in her head chasing away any leftovers of it. It wasn't the pain, though, that woke her up. Not even the cold numbness in her back, stiff after several hours against the stone.

It was the pressure. _Two _points of pressure, placed precisely on her hips, pinning the lower part of her body to the floor.

_…oh bugger…_

Not willing to leave her fuzzy cocoon of sleep, she shifted, but the only thing achieved was a jolt running through her spinal nerve. The pressure didn't ease, shifting together with her, becoming almost painful.

_…the Hells?_

She cracked her eyes opened, founding herself almost in the dark. The light from the fire was blocked by the shadow right in front of her, an actually breathing shadow that propped its weight against her legs. Adele blinked away the doze, focusing her gaze enough to discern a pair of eyes glinting in the gloom.

Amber eyes.

Her heart gave an alarmed leap, while her mind worked over what she should do – head-butt him or break into laughter and _then_ head-butt him. She was fairly sure that Bishop would try to pay her back for everything eventually, but never thought he would do it right away, sneaking up at her in the middle of the night to have his way or whatever it was he planned doing.

She neither hit nor laughed, though, as her clearing mind came to realize that the eyes staring at her were too pale to belong to Bishop, their colour approaching yellow. More so, those eyes were surrounded by fur. Not to mention they were set not on a face, but a muzzle. A muzzle that was uncomfortably close to her.

Adele frowned, her mouth opening slightly, but not a sound came out. Karnwyr didn't move, keeping his forepaws on her hips and staring, his breathing quiet, punctured, deliberate.

Sniffing.

She was at a loss, not really knowing what to do apart from stupidly gazing back at the wolf. Karnwyr cocked his head, the light from behind illuminating the tips of his hard hairs, haloing the wolf with red and gold.

"…Hi there?" she muttered in a whisper, taking a second to find her hand and to send command for it to move, to give a scratch to the canine or pat his head or…

The wolf tensed the second she stirred, pressing his paws harder into her hips, lowering his head and growling softly, warningly. Her palm fell back to the floor.

"…Okay," she breathed out, setting her jaw in sudden irritation. "What _is_ it you want, then?"

He moved closer, slowly, and she backed away on instinct, but didn't have enough space for maneuvers – and froze when his nose nearly poked into her neck, taking in her scent. Adele took a slow careful breath, bracing herself. It was no time to panic - she seemed to recall that animals could _feel_ fear. Hardly a soothing thought, though. Especially with his teeth so close to her throat. Were it any other animal, she would have taken her chances and tried to fight it off – but, Hells, it was a companion of her companion, so the only chance she could take was that of Karnwyr being kind enough not to bite into her flesh on a whim.

Fighting hard to keep still, she darted her glance around the cave. Faint gleams of fire danced along the stone walls, chasing the shadows, a sight she would have enjoyed in any other situation. But for now the only thing that mattered was the ranger already on watch, sitting near the named fire with his back to her, his cloak thrown over his knee as he was mending it with quick sure stitches. The picture of Bishop sowing was another one Adele would have thoroughly enjoyed, if it wasn't for a more pressing matter. Literally.

"…Bishop?" she whispered, doing her best to suppress a shiver when Karnwyr's breath tickled her skin. "Biiiiiiishoooooop?"

The ranger glanced back at her, his gaze swift and indifferent, as always, simply taking note of the surroundings and what was happening, before going back to his cloak.

"Enjoying yourself?" his tone, though, was laced with amusement, but amusement unconcerned, like it was just another day to see his beast all over someone. It was a nauseating notion, to think that, perhaps, it _was_.

"Not me, obviously," she answered quietly, again meeting eyes with Karnwyr who drew a bit back at the noise of their voices. Staring hard at the wolf, she squeezed out a strained smile. "Your hound is."

"I've no hound."

"Your _wolf_, yes. Your big mean independent unstoppable breathtaking wolf."

At that he chuckled, but still didn't turn: "Well then, maybe I'd better leave you two alone, eh?"

"As long as he doesn't get any ideas," Adele muttered dryly, eyeing the wolf who switched to sniffing her hair loosened from its tail for the night. He didn't seem hostile if she didn't move, so the woman allowed herself to relax. Maybe that was it. Maybe the animal just decided to get acquainted. Finally. And suddenly.

_What is to sniff on me, anyway? I probably smell like a dung-pile. Sweat. Water. Some blood, perhaps…_

_Yeeeees, blood, exactly… My blood,_ - she closed her eyes tightly. _- Oh, nice._

"Bishop, call him off, will you?" Adele whispered, hating that her voice came out so weak.

"Scared?" son of bitch sounded positively smug.

"Yes. And when I get scared, I tend to poke my blade into everything that moves."

He chuckled again, and she couldn't help but to notice how much deeper his quiet hoarse chuckle sounded in the closed space of the cave, as if echoing itself, forming several soft layers that enveloped her every cell, sending shivers to the places that never supposed to have shivers at all…

_…Of all the times to get turned on…_

_You are a sick-sick woman, Adele Farlong._

Karnwyr's breath brushed over her ear, her cheek, towards her face. He was so close she could almost feel the touch of his nose.

_Damn, I might in fact smell of Bishop a bit…_

_As if I needed another reminding how badly I want a bath._

For a moment the wolf's breath traced her shut lids, then moved away, and Adele dared to open her eyes. And there was he, in all his derisive glory, towering above her, his shoulder leaned against the ledge of her small niche, arms folded on his chest, looking down with almost palpable jeering.

_So much for being able to hear him coming._

Adele glared up at the ranger, all too aware that her face was burning with heat like a fender. Bishop didn't pay any attention to her glower, his hooded eyes following Karnwyr, who went back to sniffing her neck and collarbone.

"You know," the ranger murmured with a revoltingly pleased smirk, "this is actually arousing."

_Go die, _- she thought helplessly as another wave of warmth rushed to her skin. It was unsettling, to face him like this, unable to gain his eye-level, practically squashed to the floor by his bloody mutt.

"Bishop, lovely," she uttered, "if you have something to say to me, just grow a pair and say it, not sic your wolf on me."

"…You serious?" he quirked up an eyebrow, then sniffed. "Princess, trust me, when I _have_ something to say, you'll be the first to hear. What he's doing is pretty much his business," she wanted to ask what, then, Karnwyr was doing exactly, but Bishop gave her no such opportunity, settling himself more comfortable against the wall and smirking again. "And besides, it was _you _who tried to grab him earlier, so bear the consequences."

"Relax and enjoy, huh? Any resistance will only make the inevitable more painful?" his smirk twitched in a held-back chuckle at her crude innuendo, and Adele stared at the wolf, who raised his head to gaze back. "So what had _he _done to earn your affection?" she wondered at Karnwyr. "Fed his mother to you?"

The wolf didn't react, only stared up at Bishop's snicker. "See, boy?" the ranger drawled. "For wretched scums like us, affection is something to be _earned_."

Adele grinned despite herself, also looking up at him. "Touché," she nodded and sighed. "Just call him off."

"Why don't you _ask_, hmm?" he suggested softly, which only made the taunt all more apparent, slaughtering any kindle of amicability in her on the vine. "You know, _nicely _– like a charming young lady you are."

"_Please_," she grated.

He tsked, "Sounds like 'stab yourself, piece of shit'."

_Will you?_

She closed her eyes, leaning back on the stone wall. "…Please," she said gently this time. Bishop didn't answer, and Adele smiled inwardly at that. Unexpected. Good. "I'm… I'm really not good with animals… And I'm afraid he'd smell… well…" she made herself swallow, her voice appropriately weak. "Please."

No answer came, but as a moment passed, she finally heard the dry click of his tongue, and immediately Karnwyr's paws left her hips as the wolf loped off of her.

"Thank you," she whispered and drew a breath that, she knew, sounded relieved, then opened her eyes and looked up at him. Bishop hadn't left, still propping himself against the wall, still gazing at her, but the look in his eye was no longer mocking, appearing almost cautious. "You look tired," she muttered, and his eyes narrowed a bit. It was a mystery to her how she managed not to grin. "Since your wolf woke me up, anyway," she let a tad of teasing annoyance flow into her voice, enough to make it believable, "I can take your watch. Wouldn't want an exhausted tracker, now would I?"

His stare was cold and blank again, and her inner smile widened. As if he could sense that there was a trick somewhere, but was unable to detect it. _Yes, you son of a bitch, this is exactly how it feels for me 'cause of you. Bad, huh?_

A feint. One of the simplest ones. If you have a weakness, have a breach in your defense or a flaw in your attack, then show it just a bit _too_ openly, make it a little _too_ obvious – and a suspicious enough opponent would never try to use it against you, assuming it to be a trap of yours, a draw that needs to be eluded.

Some part of her was even disappointed that Bishop took it so easily.

_Gods, I so miss a good duel._

"…Fine," he suddenly shrugged easily, pushing himself off the wall. "I'll take my nap, then."

_…What? No! You are supposed to be angry! You, not me!_

Picking up his cloak, he turned to her for a moment: "Since you are so generous, mind mending it?"

"I'm not _that _generous," she answered, fumbling to her feet.

"No?" he smirked. "Shame."

Adele made her way towards the fire, avoiding stepping on her sleeping companions and suppressing a wish to grab the back Bishop's head and plant his face into the wall.

"Have a nice watch," the ranger nodded at her, and she forced a smile to which he didn't answer.

_Now how's that for getting into your own trap?_

Gritting her teeth, she threw her hand out for his belt and, before he could stop her, snatched the flask secured there. His palm grabbed her wrist, but it was late, and she only stared back straight into his eyes, arching her brow:

"_My _watch."

For a second his fingers tightened around her wrist, but then he dropped it, stepping back.

"Just don't drink yourself asleep," he growled softly, turning away towards his bedroll, and suddenly chuckled. "_Again_."

Adele sat down, a bit too hastily and hardly than needed, and shook her head, shooting a glance at the ranger. Unperturbed, he slid into his bedroll, Karnwyr settling at his side, watching the woman with the same steadfast gaze.

_Make a pair, huh? _– she glared at the animal in return, but he closed his eyes, depriving her of even that small comfort, and she was left with nothing else to do but stare into the fire.

Was it really worth it? Engaging into this stupid confrontation? Obviously not, since she ended up like this. What was there to gain in it, apart from frayed nerves?

_Except for the thing that you are enjoying it,_ - inner voice crooned dryly.

She smiled grimly, not able to stop herself from throwing another glance at the ranger. He was facing away from her – for better, probably. Sighing, she rolled the flask in her hand, uncorked it and shook it slightly, hearing the soft splash of whiskey inside.

_And I even don't _want _to drink._

_…Must have hit my head harder than I thought._

Her smirk turned into a grin, just as humourless, and without much thinking she splashed a bit of liquid into the fire, backing off from the flames flaring up, strong enough to wave her with heat.

Neeshka, sleeping not far, stirred at the sudden crackling of fire and half-opened one eye.

"…Uhm?" she blinked at Adele. "What'sit?"

"Nothing," Adele muttered, glaring into the flames, and chuckled dourly. "Monthlies."

"…Oh," the tiefling rubbed her nose, snuggling into her blanket, and closed her eye, murmuring sleepily. "…Yeah, it happens…"


	25. XXV: Of the Living and the Dead 1

_A/N: Forgive me all for the delay - work is an unpredictable bitch. I'll do my best to deliver the next one sooner._

* * *

**XXV**: Of the Living and the Dead (part one)

The dawn was cold and moist with dew. And so was she.

Rinsing the piece of cloth in the brook and wringing out the most of the water, Adele wiped it against her skin, wincing at the chill. Dreams of a bath were still there, but she had long mastered her skills at women's hygiene in field conditions, retrenching her needs to a private place, some liquid and a rag. Hot water that she had scooped with a mug back from the kettle over the fire was an added bonus, nothing more.

It was Grobnar who had relieved her from the watch, being the first to wake up, so Adele took what little private time she had to attend to herself before others got up. All in all, the cold water was good for at least one thing – it surely washed away any drowsiness.

All done, boots laced, clothes tied, jerkin buckled, Adele leaned against the boulder that served her as a screen and put the final touch by absentmindedly picking out her teeth with a piece of good-old sweet flag root she had from the Mere. In Neverwinter people used some kind of powder to clean their teeth, a bizarre mixture of chalk, coal and mint, but the only time she had tried it was more than enough, because it had left her mouth dry and tightened and her teeth – sickeningly peeled and grazed.

Trailing another tooth with a softened end of the root-piece, Adele wondered, in the back of her mind, why in the Hells people liked to complicate so simple things. At times like that she came pretty close to sharing Elanee's bewilderment – if not discontent - with the overly-civilized city.

_Except for water-supply__, _- she corrected herself with a smirk, shivering unwittingly at the cold. -_ Running water is neat._

That was when she heard a bird. An actual bird, piping somewhere in the forest, with such simple selfless inspiration that Adele spent several minutes staring blankly into space and listening, until looked around to make sure she was in Duskwood still. That she was. Only Duskwood seemed to come back to some kind of its former life, now that the dryad and her craziness were gone.

So Adele found herself smiling when going back towards the cave, that smile not wavering even as she saw a familiar figure standing at the entrance, peering into distance. Somehow she wasn't for a tiniest bit surprised to find the ranger awake and ready – that just seemed like his most suitable and permanent state.

"Morning, handsome," she cooed, discovering herself dangerously close to actually meaning it. She had to admit that standing there, with his casual lazy ease, swathed in the sour mist of the forest as if it was his second cloak, he looked good. He looked… _right_. In his place.

Bishop didn't bother to look at her, gazing at the forest ahead, and only gave a quick wry smirk – an acknowledgement of her attempt to taunt him or a scoff of his own – then shook his head slightly. "You left the _gnome_ on watch."

"Well, he has eyes, doesn't he?" Adele went on in the same treacly voice. "That means he can watch."

"He is a _moron_."

"My, and here I thought it takes more to scare you than a gnome," she teased, walking up to the cave, not really wishing to linger outside with him as the only company – but unable to deprive herself of the pleasure to jab further. "Slept well at least?" she asked and reached out to smother his cloak.

He was fast this time, intercepting her hand half-way, his fingertips instantly finding weak points between the thin bones in the back of her palm – and she hissed in the air in premonition of pain to come.

There came none.

"Don't go down _that_ path this early in the morning, princess," he warned quietly, running his fingers over her knuckles as if testing the keys of a clavecin. "I'd hate feeling guilty for breaking such a pretty hand."

"You won't," Adele sniffed.

"Won't break?" his thumb flickered in a leisurely circle over the inner side of her palm, a little too firmly for it to be a caress… and a little too intentionally for it not to be one. "Or won't feel guilty?"

She inhaled slowly, deliberately, in exasperation and at the same time to give herself precious moments to calm down, and then, seeing a sudden loophole she could escape through, blew the air out at him, ruffling his hair. Bishop flinched away, freeing her hand.

"Fine," she shrugged with a smile. "Be a tousled sloven if you wish."

Another smirk curved his lip, a smirk that strangely suited his scowl, "Small wonder so much people want you dead." Her eyes narrowed at his words, but the ranger chose to stare again at the forest and went on in a totally business-like tone: "Speaking of. Three hours to Ember from here. About five, if we make it through the Grove to check those caves you wanted."

"Through the Grove, then," she replied. "It'll be faster."

That drew his glance, fleeting and derisive, "Now, how exactly is a wench thinking to come up with five hours being faster than three?"

"As in 'won't need to go to the Grove on our way _back'._"

"It's a fool errand, princess. _No one_ can stay long in Duskwood without changing position every now and then. No one sane would even want to. At best you'll find a pile of freshly gnawed bones. At worst – a bunch of Malarites dancing around the fire and eating someone's insides."

"Uh-huh," she crossed her arms on her chest. "So it can't be just some harmless careful hermit who decided to live his quiet life of solitude here?"

"It goes into the first description, if you ask me," he sneered before she could answer and bowed his head markedly. "But of course you don't."

Somehow, but she managed to keep her smile in place as he brushed past her with unmistakable finality. Bishop had already made several steps away, deeper into the wood, when, much to her own surprise and without any particular reason, she said: "Heard a bird just now." He paused, not turning to her, but tilting his head expectantly, waiting for her to get to the point. Adele shrugged, even though he couldn't see the motion. "Guess, your deer would be coming back soon, too."

Still not facing her, he snorted: "I never bought any deer for them to become _mine_."

"…Oh, take a break, will you," she grouched.

"Will _you_?" he threw back, resuming his way.

_After you, ranger__. Only after you._

She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the rustle of grass under his feet – the only indication of his steps – and took a sigh. They would go to the Grove. They would go anywhere else that held at least a possibility of the hint that'd help the investigation. Anywhere… as long as it could stall going to Ember itself.

_I__f gods only knew how much I don't want to…_

_When had the gods _ever_ done anything _you_ wanted?_

_Never. The only one to do so was me… _

The cave greeted her with Grobnar's voice. She wouldn't have been surprised to see him talking to himself, but this time it was Shandra who kept him company, sitting right on her bedroll, wrapped tightly into a blanket, half of her probably still in a dozy haze. Bishop's belongings were left thrown in the corner, which Karnwyr took full advantage of, rolling to his back and sprawling himself on the sleeping bag. That nearly adorable picture was a tad ruined by the usual 'just-you-dare' look he cast her, but after the previous night Adele had no wish to even come close to the wolf.

The fire had almost died, and even Grobnar's poking into the embers didn't help much – the chill sipped into the cave.

_Damn, it's actually winter soon. Wonder if I'll live to see it._

"Good morning, miss Adele," Grobnar greeted her, silencing her contemplations. For that she was grateful.

"We've seen each other already, Grobnar," she smiled, nodding to Shandra, who blinked at her sleepily, also nodding and murmuring something unintelligible in response.

"Oh, I know that. But it is morning still," the gnome pointed out with his usual strange, but unarguable logic. "And it is still good." He grinned. "Besides, I can't know if, perhaps, something poignant had happened already in-between our meetings."

"…No, nothing," Adele chuckled, taking her place on a flat stone near the fire. "Got clean, heard a bird and… that's about all of my adventures for now."

"A bird? Really? Why, I haven't heard a single one during our whole way! What bird was it?"

"…Uhm…" she shrugged slowly, not knowing why it was of any importance, but anyway digging through her knowledge of the fowl, limited as it was to those inhabiting the swamp. "Well, it certainly wasn't an owl… or a snipe, or wagtail… Sounded pretty like the plover or millerbird, but I'm not sure," she shrugged again, this time apologetically. "And I can't come up with anything else."

"Hmm," Grobnar scratched his head, then got up to his feet and strode to the cave entrance. "Maybe I'll tell once I hear it myself…"

"…What was that about?" Shandra muttered, frowning.

"Beats me," Adele replied, looking into the gnome's back as he went into the morning. "Like most things about him, to be honest."

The other woman snorted quietly in return, rubbing her face and freeing herself from the blankets.

"The water's still warm," Adele nodded at the dixy on the fire. "Makes that brook more tolerable for washing."

"…In a minute, not right now," her last word drowned in a yawn, and Shandra clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, then shook her head. "Otherwise I'll fall asleep with my face first in the water."

Adele smirked and slid a bit away on her perch, giving Shandra some space. The farmer took a sit, still a bit groggily, stretching her hands towards the fire, and moved the shoulder of her sword-arm as if to banish some unpleasant feeling there.

"Hurts?"

"A little," Shandra winced. "You'd think years of field works saved me from strained muscles."

"The angle is different when you fight, the impact – too. More like diving rather than pressing," seeing Shandra's puzzled look, Adele chewed her lip trying to find better words, then flinched dismissively. "Just remind me to work that out with you during our next training."

"…Alright," the woman gave her an unsure smile, baffled. "For a moment you sounded like Grobnar."

She watched Shandra's profile for a second as the farmer poked the fire, then sighed. "There's one thing, also…" Shandra looked up at her again, but Adele took her turn to stare into the flames. "We are about to take a little side-trip, but then… Bishop said we'll reach Ember in several hours," the farmer didn't answer, and she slipped her fingers into her hair, rubbing her scalp, then dropped it, deciding that the straight track was the easiest. Or the quickest, at least. "If you are not sure you _can_ go and see it all with your own eyes, then-"

"Look," Shandra's voice came unmistakably aggravated. "You don't need doing it."

"Doing what?" Adele blinked at her cross expression.

"Coddling me. I mean… I appreciate the concern and all, but I'm fine," her tone spoke the opposite, but Adele decided against pointing that out. "Won't fall apart, don't worry."

_Wish I could state the same._

"…Okay, settled then," Adele nodded, then smiled wryly. "All the better for me. Less to think about," she handed Shandra her flask as a peace-offering.

The farmer took it, just a little too briskly, but Adele thought better than to press it, switching to ruffling the embers of their fire. Shandra's ill temper sometimes could only be matched with that of Qara, and she wanted neither of those.

"…I'm sorry," Shandra suddenly muttered, making her look back. The blonde woman was twiddling the flask, picking at it with her nail, but didn't meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I get mad all the time. It's just… I don't… I guess I just still can't wrap my head around it all."

"It's alright," Adele shrugged.

"No, it's _not_. And it's not only about… don't know…" she shut her eyes almost desperately. "Can't even explain, damn it. I'm not really good at getting along with people. Really. You probably don't understand, but… here you are, growing up in the middle of nowhere, and don't really get much company, and so get used to handling everything on your own, planning your whole life around seasons and crops and moons when it's time to plant or fertilize or gather harvest… and then all _this_ starts happening!" she leaned a bit forward, drawing her knees closer, in unconscious wish to hug them or something - but didn't, grinding her teeth angrily at herself. "And I _hate_ it, feeling lost and… because of it… so _useless_."

"…Well, trust me, were you completely useless, I would've found a reason to leave you on Duncan," Adele assured half-jokingly, at the same time eyeing her carefully, until Shandra chuckled dryly.

"That's… strangely comforting, you know."

"Sure," she grinned more confidently. "Besides, Duncan would have _loved_ it."

"Oh, please," the woman shook her head, but at least opened her eyes. "Anyway, what I meant was… I'm sorry for before. For bitching on you… on everyone. I shouldn't have, I know."

"Hey, not the most self-possessed woman here, so… no harm done."

"Alright then, fresh start," she took a deep breath and extended to Adele her hand, which the woman shook with the same grin. "Shandra Jerro, pleasure to meet you."

"Adele Farlong, the pleasure is all mine."

"…And thanks for not holding it against me. I mean, I noticed that you didn't. And for not lording it over me. And don't say anything more!" she rounded hastily, seeing Adele opening her mouth again.

"…Good morning, you two weirdoes," Qara eyed them warily, coming up to the fire and, obviously not interested much in their answer, scooped some water from the kettle, heading outside and taking a gulp to rinse her mouth. Her weasel was already peeking out from under her collar, pushing his snoot between the girl's tousled red locks.

Her way was cut short by Grobnar, who burst back into the cave, beaming a delighted apology at the sorceress' angry yelp when he crashed into her, then skirted the girl to trot towards the fire.

"It's a nightingale, miss Adele," he exclaimed, both glad and reprimanding, probably thinking that anyone should recognize it. "A simple nightingale."

Adele shook her head, not getting at once what he was about, then remembered about the bird. "Oh. And here I thought it's called '_nightin_gale' 'cause it sings at night."

"Not necessary. Sometimes it sings even at daytime – whenever the mood hits it, really."

"…I see," she glanced at Shandra with faked sourness. "Damn, I'm hopeless as a romantic if I hadn't even recognized a nightingale."

"Pff, I wouldn't have recognized it either," the other woman snorted.

"Thought you grew up on a farm, with animals and birds."

"So? I would have recognized a chicken singing… Well, I'd be surprised out of my mind that it started singing, but I'd have recognized it."

"What does it mean to see a pear in your dream?" Neeshka suddenly gave voice, stretching on her bedroll.

"Oh, let's see," Grobnar answered readily. "Pears, pears… Have you seen it on their own, miss Neeshka? There's the thing really, that if you did, then it's one meaning, but if they were, for example, lying in a vase together with apples, then it's quite another pair of shoes… fruits… nevermind. Though my dreams were filled with giant wolves today, me too trying to guess what it could mean…"

"…Heh, don' tell me I'm the only one to feel he's jest mockin' us all the time," Khelgar grumbled from his place near the wall.

"That's 'cause you _always_ feel that everyone around is mocking you," the tiefling rolled her eyes, mechanically pulling her legs to herself when Bishop entered and stepped over her, not taking the trouble of walking around.

With a slight smile Adele watched how within several moments their small camp started to move, packing up, bedrolls and blankets being fold, armour clanking as it was put on… Shandra went to the fire, again taking it upon herself to cook something quickly. Casavir, in his unrelenting politeness, wished everybody a fair morning, to which Bishop simply couldn't hold back an answer that the presence of a paladin does not necessarily makes the morning 'fair'. Casavir ignored him. As far as Adele noticed, he gave little to no damn about the ranger's baiting of him personally, just couldn't stand it when he started to insult others. Taking time before breakfast was ready, the paladin also went outside. Elanee followed him, as usually shadow-like, silent and practically unnoticeable. And for what must have been a countless time already Adele thought what they were even _doing_ here…

"My dear?" the unmistakable nasal voice reached her, and she turned her head, looking at Sand who settled at her side. "If you don't mind, I had a thought or two about the case that I wanted to discuss."

She smiled, finding an odd comfort in his presence, in his ability to focus on truly important things despite everything.

_Yes… That is what we are doing here, that is what _I _am doing here… Or __should, at the very least._

"Gods bless you, Sand," Adele muttered.

The wizard stopped, her words probably putting him off the track. "…Beg your pardon? Did I happen to sneeze and not notice it?"

"…No, it's nothing."

"Ah, good. Was afraid my senility is catching up with me," he waved his hand. "Let us just talk it over quickly, so I can finally limber up after the reverie spent in the pose of even to _me_ unknown rune…"

* * *

_Werewolves…_

_Follow _one_ direction the incompetent bitch pointed – and end up in a werewolves' lair._

_Figures, Malin. Figures _so_ much…_

The disfigured, fur-grown runty body, pierced with arrows even before it could transform completely, slid down the wall it got thrown to, leaving a slick red smear on the stone. But the two-coloured wench hesitated yet, keeping her blade in the creature's throat, watching it closely, making sure it was dead.

Was that smart, at least.

Bishop eased his hold on the weapon, the shaft of an unused arrow shuffling quietly along the wood of the bow, and lowered it, though his fingers still itched to draw it again and shoot something else. Anything, really. But the dwarf, the druid and the witch had been left at the foot of the cliff, guarding the path while they made their way up to the cave. The others had gone inside to investigate, together with one of the gnome wenches, leaving the three of them together with the tiefling here, the second sister keeping them company.

"…Shit," the demon summarized, frowning at the corpse, keeping her distance – just in case – then snickered without any glee. "Well, I suppose, it _was_ stupid to think two little unarmed gnomes can simply _live_ here."

"Suppose," the half-breed echoed, wrenching her rapier free, not wincing when the blood from the gush flowed abundantly, then looked back at the two of them. Bishop met her eyes squarely, hard, hoping she would get how much strength it took him _not_ to grab her neck and crash the windpipe like paper, squeeze it until she choked to death on her thrice-damned stubbornness. He hadn't missed the small victorious smile she had shot him after meeting the two gnomes, with their cursed insects and cursed stuttering – and it brought him no small pleasure seeing it being wiped off her bruised face as the runty bitch started muttering something about blood, not being able to resist, drooling and then…

…_Hope __the second one has her feast on the others._

The tiefling and the princess exchanged quick alarmed glances, realizing the same thing, and both took a sprint towards the cave. Bishop didn't follow, listening – if the werewolf was the winner, the ranger would have preferred to meet it here, where he wasn't at disadvantage of a narrow cavern. He would have suggested the women to do the same – but the rage sizzling just under his skin was too fresh to care for anyone's safety.

Glancing at Karnwyr, he saw the wolf sniffing the feet of the dead beast, memorizing the strange unfamiliar scent that turned out to be hostile, then snarling quietly and backing off, all his muscles still tense.

"Fuck it, boy," the ranger muttered, unsheathing his longsword, and slashed at the neck of the werewolf, only flinching a bit at the teeth-grazing scrape of the blade against the stone. Chopped off head rolled to the ground, blood-sheeted hair that used to be blond flaying around it, and Bishop kicked it bouncing down the slope. Karnwyr watched its fall, then stared up at the ranger, who answered with a sneer, bending down to pluck his arrows out of the beheaded corpse. "Better safe than sorry."

The movements, familiar and solely practical, were soothing enough.

_I warned the bitch. I warned her it was a fool's errand. That no sane fucker would live here. But who's ever listening to Bishop? No one ever does._

_No one. Ever._

His teeth gritted slowly behind his smirk.

Karnwyr let out a low growl, warning him, and Bishop turned his head in time to see the bunch piling out of the cave, followed by the smells from the inside, musk, fur and carrion. Of course, the _paladin_ was the first, his face set in gloomy concern, eyes skimming around until got locked on the small decapitated body.

"What, did your babe turn out to be a werewolf too?" Bishop drawled.

"Let us not mock the dead," was the answer, solemn, grave, as always leaving a bitter taste, close to bile, in the ranger's throat. That taste got even worse when the holy cretin actually came up to the body and touched it briefly, muttering one of his prayers under breath.

"Hells, why don't you kiss her good-bye to the pile," he uttered in disgust, turning away, shifting his attention to the rest of the misfits. Their blasted leader still didn't meet his eyes, looking under her feet as she walked, followed by the farmwench and the tiefling, always the two faithful devoted maids to the glory of their uncrowned moss-reeking princess. The wizard seemed deep in himself again, even in his thoughtfulness brushing away something from his shoulder. The gnome jogged by his side, clenching some bag to his chest. Bishop recognized the collection of bugs that had belonged to the werewolves and grinned darkly. _So we don't mock the dead, we rob them blind, eh?_ "Was it fruitful at least?" he asked aloud.

It was the wizard who answered. "Not particularly. Unless you find desiccated half-devoured remains an interesting item," he sighed, floating out of his contemplations, and winced at the sight of the body near the stone wall, then looked down his nose at Bishop. "Which I think you actually may."

"Don't dig yourself, elf," the ranger warned him softly.

"Oh, shut up, will you," the farmwench muttered, rubbing her neck and shoulder, measuring Bishop with a single short glare, then looked around at the rest. "No one got bitten or anything? Isn't it how you turn into a werewolf yourself?"

"Oh Hells," the tiefling groaned, checking herself quickly. "No, I'm fine."

The paladin had little to worry about, clad in metal and all, but it didn't escape Bishop how he shot a look at the princess, probably ready to lick her every wound clean if needed, poor pathetic sod. But the wench was unharmed, which she confirmed by a short smile, all softness and charming dimples, the smile that made Bishop's desire to throttle her stronger. It wasn't fake, it was _empty_, _nothing_, just a trained flex of necessary face-muscles. But the paladin bought it, of course he did – he was a bloody gentleman, after all, so when a woman said she was alright he _had_ to believe her.

_But you are __all-wrong, princess… Something there in you is very-very wrong… _- he thought, studying her face covered with a bruise some other wench would have had fits of hysterics about. Why, with such a pretty snoot. - _Though it suits her. Makes her look even more monochrome. _

"Is it possible for insects to turn into werewolves?" the gnome wondered, watching the bag in his hands, and frowned at the wizard who stood closest to him. "I mean, after all those talks about how they ate them when getting hungry…"

The elf stared down at him blankly, then shook his head. "You are seriously asking, aren't you?"

"Oh, no, no-no, don't bother, Master Sand," the gnome smiled and tapped himself on the temple. "Just figured out that the curse is supposed to pass through blood, but they don't have any – so that leaves them out, thankfully," he shivered, clutching the bag closer to him. "To think what these poor bugs have been through, why, within such a possession, it is a blessing that at least lycanthropy spares them."

"…Indeed," the wizard murmured, rubbing the bridge of his nose almost furiously, like it could purge the mad runt from his mind.

"My word is that we kill the shortie," Bishop smirked at the gnome. "Who knows, maybe it's a racial trait to turn into murderous freaks."

"Says the guy who is so good with wolves," the princess muttered suddenly, making the tiefling chuckle.

"And it speaks!" Bishop sneered at her, knowing that this time she wouldn't avert her eyes. Not with everyone around. He could swear that for a moment her lips twitched to return his sneer, but she reigned in her anger or whatever it was swirling in those still waters. "So, my lady, what other harmless careful hermits you wish to visit today?"

Any answer she wanted to spurt out was silenced by the sound of heavy harried footsteps accompanied by the brandishing of armour as the dwarf sprang up the hill, limping gravely, but with his axe at ready, reddened face wet, eyes bulged out.

"By Tyr's arse, what's happenin' here?" he roared through haggard breathing, looking around wildly.

"…Already nothing," the tiefling shrugged. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten inta me? What's gotten _onto_ me is a better question! A chopped off head! Right from above an' on yours truly!" he poked a stubby finger at the demon, ignoring her doubling in laughter. "I may be an' ol' crazy dwarf, but heads don't fly without battle! So shut up an' tell me what happened!" he trailed off, taking a deep breath, and clutched at his heart.

"Easy, Stumpy," the tiefling wrapped her arm around his neck to press his face into her stomach, still shaking with giggles, and stole a glance at Bishop, guessing the severed head was his doing. He smirked, amused despite himself.

"There is nothing to worry about anymore, my friend," the paladin calmed him, even his face looking like he was holding back a smile. "The two gnomes living here appeared to be werewolves, but that is no longer a threat."

"Werewolves," the dwarf repeated, his voice muffled against the demon, then backed off to glare at the princess, who was grinning in honest now. "Ya jest can't go anywhere without catchin' shit on yer boots, eh?"

"No, she can't," Bishop drawled.

"But in our defense," the gnome put in, "they both looked perfectly harmless and friendly. Even suggested I stayed with them! Oh…" he blinked, realization of his possible future dawning upon him. "…Ah… Oh, my."

"Let's just leave, huh?" the farmwench rubbed her forehead, stifling a laugh.

The dwarf grunted, disentangling himself from the tiefling. "Alright, but I'm watchin' ya all from now on," he grumbled, limping back down the path.

"How's your leg, you watcher?" the princess chuckled.

"Bah, leg. Was better a minute before," he measured her with another furious and concerned gaze. _Oh, but how they all adore her_. "But if they were that friendly, why they attacked at all?"

"Smelled the blood," Bishop murmured, his smirk widening at almost palpable wave of irritation that flowed off his leader.

"What?" the dwarf stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing his damned comrades. "But no one's bleedin'."

"_I_ am," the princess deadpanned.

"Eh?" he stared at her, uncomprehending – but then his jaw fell down, and he nearly jumped away, waving his hands. "Ya mean…? Bah, ya keep away from me with all ya women's things."

"Hey!" the tiefling squeaked, insulted for her friend and for the entire womankind.

"What 'hey'? It's scary! It's scary that a creature can bleed for several days an' doesn' die!"

Bishop nearly caught his foot over a stone, barking a laugh, if not at the words then at least at the mortified look on the paladin's face.

"You see, sir Khelgar," the gnome chirped happily, "it's because-"

"No! I don' wanna know! Jest let's go already!"

With that he stomped off, tailed by the prattling gnome, the infuriated demon and the rest of the morons. Bishop paused, turning to the princess, and made a wide gesture, inviting her to come first.

Oh, if the looks could kill… If they could, his battered dismembered body would have already been falling into the nearest chasm.

"Pleased with yourself?" she drawled icily, passing him by.

"Very much," he chuckled, walking behind her, keeping his eyes on the back of her head, several tresses of hair broken loose from her fillet and brushing the collar. She had so much of hair, really, it was a wonder her neck hadn't snapped and her head hadn't fall off from the weight. "Be happy that I am, princess, otherwise I'd've killed you for dragging me here."

She didn't turn, but threw her hands up. "Yes, you _were_ right, Bishop won, free booze and prostitutes for everyone."

"Promise?"

A hissing sigh was the only answer. Her fingers came up to catch the unruly locks, tucking them behind her pointy ears – and too late Bishop caught himself following the moves, his own fingers suddenly prickling at the memory of that hair in his grasp, nothing near soft or silken, and wondered what it would look like when left loose wholly, all the heavy wild thatch…

_Though__ the colouring is still stupid,_ - he smirked. – _Wonder if the carpet matches the braids…_

He would have asked, simply for the sake of feeling her fury – but it was too late, they had already reached the bottom of the path, caught up with others, even the fish-blooded druidess (sure, glancing at him, too dangerously close to her precious marsh-star) and the red-head (rolling her eyes at their half-snickering half-mad bunch and saying that, no, she didn't want to know what happened) – so he remained silent. As much as he enjoyed scraping her dignity - not here, not like this, with her retinue here to shield her. He would wait for her to be alone, to _come_ to him alone. And she would. She had to at some point, wouldn't be able to resist – divide and conquer, after all.

So he just smirked at her cold cross smile when she told him to lead the way – and led, Karnwyr padding at his side, his strides long enough to carry him way ahead, leaving the rest trampling behind, his gaze already fixed on the opening that was soon to appear between the trees. The opening where Duskwood ended…

…and Luskan grounds began.

Just another road, another crossing of the border, another burnt down village.

Funny, how they _all_ looked the same after seeing several, how it didn't bring a single feeling up anymore, all memories distant, faded, all locked up skeletons long ago rotten to dust, tasteless, boring…

Hooding his eyes, Bishop sniffed the air, allowing the sounds of voices melt in the rustle of the wood.

He only hoped the corpses would not be too disfigured. He remembered well enough the little dark-haired beggar to recognize him among the bodies. And he fully intended to fetch his knife back…


	26. XXVI: Of the Living and the Dead 2

**XXVI:** Of the Living and the Dead (part two)

"…An' those mood swings! Argh!"

"Yeah? And you, men, have hair growing on your face!"

"Women too!"

"Dwarven women, you dumb - _normal_ women do not!"

"Ye'r one to talk 'bout normal women, with yer horns an' tail!"

Adele blew out a quiet sigh, watching the two arguing figures sitting some distance away from where she stood.

"Your bet on how more long it'll take?" she murmured with the corner of her mouth to Casavir by her side.

The paladin, whose facial expression had already made all the transformations from uneasy and uncomfortable to a set stony mask of carefully kept apathy, shook his head. "I do not know. And I claim that with all certainty."

They had gone out of Duskwood more than hour ago, the forest growing thinner, lighter, until it had been left behind their backs, and it was like they had suddenly walked out of the evening straight into the day, overcast, but still fair. Grass underfoot gave place to rustling sand; trees – to the low scrubs littering the hills…

"Don't you happen to know some divine incantation for the case?" she asked just as quietly. "Like 'reverent silence' or something?"

Casavir glanced at her without turning his head, his gaze studying – but averted it before she could guess what it meant. "No, I'm afraid," he sighed. "Though it could have appeared helpful."

Her lips twitched in a small smile. "Sure. Better even something like '_awed_ reverent silence'. Or 'horrified' would do. Actually, I think Sand is already honestly contemplating that."

Another glance, which she didn't assert, starting to suspect what was the reason for it. It was that she kept talking. Couldn't shut up, really, for the whole time they were waiting for their tracker to scout the path ahead towards Ember. Both he and Sand didn't put it past Luskans to set some sort of trap or an ambush, even in a village already destroyed.

_Don't._

Adele took a deep breath, using the air to try and fill the sucking emptiness that spread inside her stomach – but it brought no relief. Instead, again, she had the same nagging feeling, a feeling that she could catch the _smell_. Faint, distant, more of an echo tickling her nostrils, so weak that it was easy to think she had only imagined it… if it wasn't for Sand not far away from her, who was visibly wincing, his hand coming up from time to time to brush under his nose, obviously to banish the same trace of stench.

_Gods damn my elven __sense of smell._

She knew that smell, the bitter bile-rising tang of damp ash, of fire doused with rain, all of that covering (but not enough to _conceal_) the thick acrid reek of overcooked meat… It surely brought back memories - of fire devouring the wood, spitting with cracking sparkles, lashing from one roof to the other, of shadows moving and trashing in the smoke and darkness of the night, of a body being thrown away by the power of the spell, turning a living being into a charred scalded carcass, a crisp blistered frame that used to be her friend… And even now, after all the months that passed, every time she tried to remember Amie, her beautiful Amie smiling, talking, _living_ - the first thing to come to her mind was always the seared blackened face…

Adele let the air out, not missing another intent gaze of Casavir, drawn by her too careful breath, by the tic in her face that probably turned her thorough smile into something hideous, and the woman had to fight the wish to go, to get away from him before he asked if she was alright and she had to lie.

_Damn you, Bishop, _- she thought angrily, glancing up the path, on the two sickeningly familiar hills walling it, no traces of the ranger still, - _you're surely taking your time…_

But Casavir chose to remain silent, bless him, and the woman darted her eyes around her companions, taking some comfort in their presence. Sand as well was watching the path, at the same time looking gone, probably managing to contemplate something in the meanwhile. Elanee stood father ahead, facing the hills, stiff-backed, unmoving; faint wind swept over the ground and fluttered the skirt of her robes around her legs. Grobnar took his journal out, but wrote nothing, didn't even open the folds, grazing his fingers absently over the leather-cover as if it were the strings of his lute, his gaze turned inwards. Qara nibbled at cedar nuts from her pouch – it seemed to be the only food she could stomach, still a bit ill after Duskwood – not minding Tamin stealing some of them right from her palm. The girl managed to look equally bored and annoyed, from time to time glaring at Neeshka and Khelgar, who went on arguing. Unlike her, and despite her own pretence at annoyance, Adele found it reassuring to hear their voices. More reassuring than the sight of Shandra, restlessly pacing in a small circle, her arms flying up to fold on her chest one moment and falling to her sides limply the next. Adele didn't know if the other woman realized this was the same road the gith had taken her by. She didn't even know whether Shandra had been led by the gith with her eyes opened or covered – it's not like she asked, it's not like it was a thing that should – _could_ – be simply asked. In Shandra's place she would have done her best to close off any single memory of the abduction… probably, to no avail.

"We should go," she heard Elanee speaking softly, and looked the same way the druidess did, to see the gray canine standing on the top of the hill. Karnwyr. "He wants us to follow."

"About time," Qara grouched, slipping the remaining nuts back to her pack and wiping her hands clean of the crumbs.

The rest also straightened up from their places, readying themselves to go - and Adele suddenly found herself frantically thinking, looking for a reason if, perhaps, she shouldn't… wouldn't…

Denial no longer worked. Ember was there, just behind those hills, and if she crossed them, there would be no going back, no going away, and no Luskan or Neverwinter authorities would jump out of nowhere claiming it was all a big joke and present her with a paper fool's hat for falling for their sick jest…

Her mouth was so dry that her tongue nearly got stuck to her lips as she tried to lick them.

"…Adele?" Casavir spoke at her side, his deep voice rich and strong, but there was that unmistakable lace of concern to it, that nerve-cracking worry for her… and so she closed her eyes for just a moment, sopping up as much of his soothing aura as possible, and all but sprinted onwards…

* * *

He was wrong.

It _did_ feel.

Crouching, Bishop scooped a handful of heavy conglutinated ash and rubbed it between his palms, slowly, allowing the most of it to spill back to the ground, then brought the hands closer to his face, taking in the scent. It smelled of soot and earth, of course, but there was more. Slimy greasy smell of burnt oil. Vinegary trace of alchemist fire.

He snorted, a sound having nothing to do with mirth, and dropped his hands, glancing around.

It wasn't the corpses that bothered him. He had seen so much dead during the course of his life that it hardly affected him anymore. Really, he could easily have his meal right on the pile of them. Just a bunch of meat-bags with faces after all, and the only way they could have stirred him was if their insides had been dragged out and hanged on the houses like a chaplet. But even then it would have only brought up guesses that someone from the Blades had been in a festive mood.

The Blades. _That_ was what bothered him. The Blades and what they had done. Not the crudity of it, but the _way_ it had been carried out. The all too _familiar_ way. With the fires started by the perimeter to cut off any chance of escaping for those inside, with oil paths that made the fire encircle towards the centre, with alchemist flasks bringing flames to particular spots…

_Wonder if they named that strategy after me._

He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It was much like the Blades to investigate the operation that had cost them an entire squad – and then, in unending common sense to mark it as efficient and take a note for future usage. Were he of a more sensitive nature, he would have been scared for his life – as they surely couldn't have missed that not the _entire_ squad had been killed in the flames of Redfallow's Watch - but seeing that not a single assassin had come for his life, he had long figured they considered him dead after all. As for those he had stumbled upon by chance… well, if the wench could be proud of that single ring back from Solace Glade (earned by _him_, anyway), he surely had them enough to thread a pretty chiming necklace.

It still stung, though. The memory of that night, of the freedom just there, within reach, so close that he could feel it, touch it, _taste_ it – only to be mercilessly robbed by the fucking smelly barkeep who hadn't been smart enough to simply go wherever the Hells he'd been going…

…_o__r, at least, to keep his mouth shut afterwards._

Crashing the thoughts, Bishop looked up, at the hill, figuring it was time to go and call for the misfits – but saw Karnwyr loping down the slope towards him. So it did work. The idiots followed the wolf. Which meant the bloody she-elf _still_ couldn't miss a chance at reading his wolf's mind, _still_ poked her nose to where it didn't belong. He would have to work that out with her.

In time.

For now he had a crowd to be conscious of, an investigation to play along, and an obstinate wench who would be the one to pay for Duncan's stupidity - and pay dearly, as soon as he figured a way.

For now he would be satisfied with the uneasiness his mere presence around the bitch caused to her uncle.

For now he would draw what little joy he could out of her.

_For now…_

He stood up, brushing off the dirt from his hands, and stepped over one of the corpses to start for the hill, where the rest of the morons appeared, coming up and simply freezing at the opening sight…

_Showtime_.

* * *

Adele wished she could have said that there was nothing left of Ember. No, the thing was that _too much_ was left.

It was worse than West Harbour – back there had been a lot of people who survived, who preserved the feeling of life going on. It was worse than the caves under the Sword Mountains – back there the whole setting with necromantic arrangements and torches and darkness had been too surreal to truly frighten, most corpses old and kept in cold closed space, long ago loosing resemblance to beings they had once been.

This was… too simple, too real.

Scorched shells in places of houses, some walls crumbled to pieces, leaving only warped naked rafters; a lonely familiar street black with soot; dirty fritted sand that looked much like soot itself. The woman found the well with her eyes, the same well they had stood near to fight back the gith – it was smudged, too, its roof burnt, most of planks finding their end in the depths of the shaft. The fire had long died, nothing even smoldered anymore, and the only sound to cut through the silence was the creak of a single shutter somewhere in the heart of the site, followed by a tap every time it was thrown by the wind into the wall.

And the bodies…

She didn't even make them out at first, covered with sand and ash, tens of bodies, what seemed like thousands of them, strewn over the tiny street like pieces of some macabre jigsaw-puzzle. From atop the hill where she stood they looked like tiny toy-figures, scattered around by some huge ruthless hand. Men, women, elders, children, all unmoving, all _bloody dead_.

"By the gods…" Khelgar whispered, his palm curling around the handle of his axe in mortal grip. His burning eyes skimmed the remains, his whole body seeming close to shaking. "They… It… They don' even have weapons on 'em… It wasn't even a fight! They… they were jest cut down! Cut down like dogs!"

"That they were," Adele heard the voice, her _own_ voice, reaching her ears as if from afar, quiet and alien. "It was…"

"…efficient." Oh, _that_ voice she knew all too well, rusty, unconcerned…

She turned her head to meet him coming up to them, his face dispassionate, his gaze attentive, if not evaluating, as it swept over the remains.

"So?" Adele arched her brow slightly at him.

"Neatly done," he nodded. "No way could it have been a simple raid. Followed a prepared plan for sure. Luskans, no doubt. Their tactics."

"…How do you know?"

He shrugged: "You work along the border, you learn to tell eventually. Ruins like this are not such a rare sight," Bishop cocked his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "They took care to secure the perimeter first, then lit the fires and moved in, cutting down those who ran out of their houses from the smoke… You can tell even from here, from the position of the corpses," he lifted his hand and drew a quick sparse twirl in the air, picturing what he had just stated, then suddenly smirked, a thin crooked smirk of his that looked more like a chink that cracked his face. "The fools here never stood a chance. Seeing how they didn't bother to arrange watch-patrols or something, even _after_ they had already been attacked once by the gith…"

"Leave the innocents out of it," she muttered.

"What?" he looked at her, his head still tilted in amused curiosity. "Being dead automatically makes you innocent?"

"Perhaps not," Casavir answered for her, his voice cold and sharp. "But the dead has no possibility to defend themselves against any accusations, so it doesn't-"

"Spare me the platitude, paladin," Bishop stared at him, any laughter or even mockery draining from his eyes, leaving nothing but contempt. "It stinks enough here as it is."

"Can we please track back in time to the moment where you had been telling _useful_ things, ranger," Sand drawled, watching the exchange with dark but distant deprecation. No doubt he could come up with more important things to do than useless barking. _Thousands_ of things, probably. "If you are able to keep the thought that long, of course."

Bishop regarded him up and down, wordlessly managing to accentuate that it didn't take a _long_ stare to take in the whole height of the wizard. "And what else are you expecting me to tell you, elf? I've said everything. It _were_ Luskans. They blundered badly here, though. Could have worked it out differently, really, but Luskans… they aren't really used to putting blame elsewhere."

"And you are ready to confirm that in court, dear ranger?" Sand wondered. He probably already knew the answer, simply wanted Bishop to voice it.

"Me? In court?" Bishop laughed. "No way in the fucking Hells. Wouldn't want stealing your bread, anyway."

"Just what I thought," the wizard concluded, looking away from him dismissively and turning to the village, his delicately-cut brows knitted slightly in aversion. "Then we are facing the hardest of tasks – to prove the obvious." He sighed deeply, then jerked his head towards the remains. "So why don't we proceed, then?"

"I second that," Neeshka grumbled, looking as uncomfortable as never, her tail sweeping nervously.

Adele nodded and stepped forward to make her way down, to follow the tiny fair-haired figure in the distance – Grobnar, who had already went half-way towards the village, silently and firmly, on his way shooing the crows pecking at the cold stark corpse of a woman. Swallowing hard, the woman glanced at Shandra, who was standing aside, blissfully unaware of the whole conversation. Her eyes, unblinking, empty, were on the ashes. Adele reached out to touch her elbow, and the farmer nearly jumped, her head swiveling around to face the other woman.

"We need to go," Adele said softly.

"Yeah, sure, I just… I was…" she suddenly chuckled, the weak quavering sound Adele didn't like, and waved her hand at the remains. "I mean, I was just travelling through here last season," she muttered in a barely discernible mechanical voice, sounding unbelieving, and pointed somewhere in the distance. "There… there was the quartermaster's house… And Alaine's home… And…" her body suddenly shuddered, paled face distorting in-between horror and rage. "Gods, _how_…? How could someone… simply come and… do this?" she turned to the rest, demanding. "_How_?"

"With oil," the ranger drawled, fixing her with an irritated glare, and Shandra's wide blank eyes snapped to him, uncomprehending. "With oil, torches and fire-arrows. Then blades at close quarters. Need specifics? I'd say it was-"

"Be _silent_, Bishop," Casavir's tone came out a low deliberate growl, his equivalent of shout.

The ranger spared him a tad of his glare. "Well, she _asked_."

"Shut up," Adele cut off without any feeling whatsoever, in the back of her mind wondering at how drained she felt that she couldn't even muster proper anger, and eyed everyone else who showed inclinations to amuse the ranger further. Even Khelgar looked like he was surely getting enough of Bishop. "_Everyone _shut up. We'll get to killing each other later. And not _here_."

With that she turned to Sand, motioning for him to go first. The wizard inclined his head in relieved agreement, and she went on, not checking if the others followed. She simply _knew_ they did.

The burnt ground under her feet was unyielding, parched sand so solid that every step nearly hurt.

"It's like during Wailing Death," Neeshka murmured, walking by Adele's side. The tiefling's face appeared frozen, feverishly sparkling eyes moving from one body to the other, careful not to linger on any. "You know, they burnt the dead in Beggar's Nest right in the streets… The smell alone… " she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the shoulders to banish the goose-bumps, and paused, seeing Adele staring at one of the barns. "Del? What's up? Saw anything?"

"…No," the woman raked her fingers through her hair and snapped her eyes away from the wall of the barn. From the pitchfork leaned against it. Charred, sooted, but otherwise intact. With a long handle that would have given its wielder a good range of attack or defense. _Except no one took it_. "Just…"

"Sick, huh?" Neeshka gave her a grim understanding smirk, then put her arm around the other woman's shoulders. Adele couldn't tell whether the tiefling did it to steady her or herself. "I can't even… By the Hells," she groaned in disgust, her hand falling to her side as her gaze got locked on something Adele didn't see. And was sure she didn't _want_ seeing it. "Cats… What kind of a sick bastard would go and make sure to kill _cats_?"

_I don't know__, Neesh… I don't know…_

Adele didn't say a word aloud, stepping over yet another corpse – a boy in his early teens, with his head tilted at a strange angle, nearly severed by the too deep gash in his throat; wide-opened eyes, powdered with sand, stared into nothing. She spared him a glance before turning her eyes away. It were never children, never – but if to put aside the age definition, she was fairly sure she had done worse to people.

_But not _these_ people, dammit! Not unarmed people! Never!_

_Double standards, huh?_

Behind her, Casavir lingered, bending down and lowering the lids of the deceased. His own eyes were hard, with a cold shimmering gleam to the iris that made them resemble pieces of ice even more - especially on a face that pale, his lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared, turning into one thin line that looked more like a scar.

It must have been hard for him. Or wasn't it? At least he knew – believed – that something lay there, beyond, that those above cared enough to provide people with an afterlife. She never found it within herself to believe that. It seemed… too good? To have a lifespan, and then another? Endless, shiny, in the realm of a god… No, she didn't believe. If she did, it would have turned the life _here_ and _now_ into nothing more than a stupid rehearsal of a life to _come_, into nothing more than a way to earn that _another_ life. Adele didn't want belittling her existence like that. There was one life, one and only, life of flesh and blood, of breathe and heartbeat, of feel and pulse… Everything else just seemed a perversion, no better than undead.

One life - and for those in Ember it had ended.

Another faint gust of wind blew over the valley, crashing the accursed unseen shutter against the wall and rising dust from the ground, making Adele's throat tighten. The woman screwed her eyes, praying that she wouldn't cough. Or retch. Or cry. Or scream. Or simply grab that damned pitchfork and run around, poking it into the corpses, kicking them, for not taking it, for not taking anything, because _by the fucking gods, people, these were your _children_ dying!_

With grains of sand stinging the insides of her eyelids (was it sand at all?), she stopped, reaching for her belt-pouch, took out the bag of wyrmsage Nya gave her and turned to face her companions, easing the ties on the sack and holding it out silently. Glancing shortly into her eyes, Neeshka scooped the powder and slipped away, cautiously sliding between the bodies with her noiseless catlike step, as if afraid to disturb something. Khelgar was the next to rush up to her, still muttering strings of curses, and shoved his hand into the bag almost up to his elbow, clutching a handful of wyrmsage in his huge fist and stomping away, not noticing that the powder was spilling between his fingers. Qara didn't come, didn't even seem to notice what was going on, looking around, careful to keep her distance from the bodies, eerie quiet and obviously disgusted. Grobnar, too, paid little attention to others, wandering among the burnt houses, his lips moving mutely as his eyes took in whatever he came across, and Adele really didn't feel like calling out for him. Instead she turned to Casavir, meeting his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something, but had no time to – Elanee came up to them, reaching for the pouch without looking, her eyes scanning the fire-site. Adele held the wyrmsage out for her, and the elf dipped her fingers into the sack, slowly, mechanically, as if not fully aware of what she was doing, more concentrated on gazing around.

"Do you feel anything?" Adele asked, her voice only a pinch higher than whisper. "Any… dark feeling? Shadow? Like in the mountains?"

"…No," the druidess shook her head, ruefully, without relief one would have expected. Because any necromantic taint, as disturbing as it was, would have added at least some sense to what had been done at the place. Turned it to something other than a simple slaughter. Elanee's eyes were dark, clouded as she looked at Adele, her tone so quiet that Adele _saw_ her speaking rather than heard: "How are you?"

"…Me?" the woman echoed, lifting her brows in surprise, then allowed her eyes to travel over the carnage and chuckled bitterly, shrugging: "Better than them, that's for sure."

She felt Casavir shifting at her side, felt his hand come to rest upon her shoulder, but neither brushed it off nor accepted a silent comfort. Elanee looked at her for a fracture of moment, searching her face, then also stared at the village. Others had already moved deeper into the ruins, each one taking their own path – to sprinkle the powder or to simply look around. Adele saw Shandra coming up to Sand, asking him something – and getting the answer she didn't like, if her crossed arms and set jaw were any indications…

"Beasts kill for food," Elanee muttered, "to protect their territory, out of fear or self-preservation…" she shook her head. "I simply cannot understand what this was done for."

"Me?" Adele said once again – and regretted it instantly, for the paladin's grip on her shoulder tightened. Not that it was painful, but she winced nonetheless, stirring the bag with wyrmsage, her arms already tired of holding it up. "Let's just sprinkle this thing and get to helping Sand, because I honestly don't-"

"It was not your fault."

She glanced at him shortly, his gaze steadfast on her face, and stared into the opened bag…

_S__hould have seen it coming… _

"I know," she answered softly. "But it's not like my knowing will make them all jump up and go back to their lives, huh?"

His face didn't waver, neither did his gaze. "It was not your fault," he repeated, concern and firmness weaving together in his voice.

"I _know_," Adele echoed, her fingers clutching the linen of the sack almost painfully. "Might as well blame the gith for choosing this village to-"

"It was _not_ your fault," his every word was hard, suddenly scratching something inside of her, sending a crack to run up the smooth surface of her shield. "And do not even _think_ otherwise. I shall not have you blaming yourself for what these dogs had done."

"…Just take the bloody herb, will you?" she hissed, glaring at him. As if it mattered what she thought. As if it could be as simple as guilt.

Casavir met her glare with the same resolve and determination. She felt that he was ready to say something else, just like she was ready to snap at him in return, just like Elanee was about to interfere – but none of them had the chance, distracted by the noise behind them, and Adele turned in time to see Qara, pale as a sheet, dropping her staff and doubling over in qualm.

"…Damn," Adele breathed out, pushing herself between the paladin and the druidess, darting towards the girl, who staggered hastily away, not able to straighten herself.

Another fit of sickness rent the sorceress before she could reach her - but no vomit came out, only dry convulsion turning her inside out. Qara hadn't eaten much in the last two days, but still everything caught up with her - magical damper of Duskwood, the stench of decay, the lingering smoke – and her stomach no longer cared that it had nothing to throw out.

"Hold on," Adele whispered, catching the girl by the waist to steady her, but Qara wrenched herself free, barely managing to limp towards the nearest house as the next wave of sickness raked through her.

"Get away from me," the sorceress gasped, grabbing the scorched windowsill for support, bending down, and coughed, purposefully, to force at least some bile out. None came, and her coughs slowly grew into hoarse helpless sobs, just as dry and gut-wrenching.

Adele looked back, waving away everybody else as the girl made several unsteady steps further, to hide behind the building, and crouched on the ground, burying her face into her hands, painful humiliated snuffles seeping through her fingers. Her weasel scattered to the ground as well, circling his mistress and poking into her lap.

"…Qara…"

"Don't!" the girl shrank back from her hand, almost falling over. Her reddened eyes stopped on the bag of wyrmsage that Adele still held, and the sight of it seemed to send a shudder through the sorceress. "I'm not touching them," she whispered heatedly, angrily, glaring at Adele as if daring to force her. "No way in the Hells!"

"…Sure," Adele nodded, feeling herself suddenly helpless, in her mind turning over everything she knew about how to ease the sickness. "Try taking a drink."

Qara sniffed, resentfully, studying her hands: "Is that your solution to everything?"

Somehow, but Adele found it within herself to actually smile a bit. "Mostly. The gravity of the problem just dictates the strength of a drink."

The sniff this time was easier, even though still pained.

"Oooh, and here I am," Grobnar suddenly sneaked past her, towards Qara, dropping something he was carrying to the ground. It appeared to be several flasks, some of which Adele even seemed to recognize. That battered cork one surely belonged to Neeshka. "This should be enough," the gnome assured, waving at his luggage, not minding – or not noticing – Qara's watery glare. "Drink as much as you are physically able."

"I'm sick already, you idiot!" the sorceress snarled. "It'll come out the same second I drink it!"

"Well, yes, I see that. But that's the point, miss Qara – it'll cheat your stomach. You'll throw up the water, and your system will decide that the whole job with vomiting is done – and you'll feel better," he grinned. "Otherwise you are free to beat me for appearing a fool."

"You _are_ a fool," she grumbled, but fetched one of the flasks nonetheless, looking at it gloomily before taking a gulp, almost sputtering it out in another cough, but managed to swallow. Waiting for a second to make sure the water stayed inside, she wiped off the moisture from her cheeks, then glared up at the two of her companions: "It's over! I'm fine, nothing hilarious to goggle at. Or you need to see how exactly I'm going to puke?"

"…Don't be stupid," Adele shook her head, glancing back, at the patch of burnt ground behind the house. "You have no idea how gladly I would have joined you."

"Suit yourself," the sorceress snorted, nodding at the spare place near the wall grimly, and turned her face away, taking another swig of water to hide that her lips were quavering.

"It usually works," Grobnar looked up at Adele, sounding almost apologetic. "Messy, perhaps, but works. All better than to swallow potions, concoctions and questionable mixtures at every tiniest occasion," he shrugged, his grin becoming just as pleading, "…I guess."

"We'll see," Adele muttered, watching the girl carefully as she swallowed down another mouthful of water. "Stay with her, will you? I have to…" she didn't finish, motioning away with her head.

"Of course, of course," Grobnar nodded quickly, then offered her another guilty grin. "I… I seem to be better coping with the living than the dead, anyway."

"…So am I," she sighed, running her hand through his hair. "Thank you."

"Oh? For what?"

Adele didn't answer, leaving the gnome and the sorceress alone, on her way picking up the staff Qara dropped, and propped it to the wall, giving a small nod to Khelgar who stood not far. The dwarf let out a grumbling sigh:

"Not surprisin' fer a thin slip of a lass she is," he muttered into his beard softly. "'Tis a wonder she hadn't snapped in halves yet."

"She'll be fine, she just needs some time," Adele pursed her lips, staring pointedly at him. "And _not_ to be reminded of that in future."

"Pff, lass, whom ar ya takin' me for? Ya'd better watch the gnome with his blabbin'," he glared in the distance. "An' that this ranger of yers keeps his mouth shut. He surely has problems with that."

She followed his gaze to look at Bishop, who made his way through the site, studying the corpses and the chaos of tracks under his feet. Karnwyr was at his heels, taking time to sniff around, but thankfully showing no carnivore interest in the bodies. Adele flinched at the opposite image.

"He'd better," she murmured.

Handing to Khelgar the sack of wyrmsage so that he could take some more, she took a handful herself, spilling it on the first body she came across – that of a young woman, hardly older than Adele herself – and tugged down the woman's skirt to cover her cold bare legs. The body was followed by another, then another, until Adele found some sort of calming rhythm in her skipping from corpse to corpse, not staying for long near any of them. Standing up from yet another dead, she brushed off the hair falling into her face and looked at Sand perched on a burnt bench, flipping through the pages of a dirty thick journal.

"What's that?"

"Quartermaster's log, it seems," the elf answered without lifting his eyes from the book, hastily running his gaze from one line to the other. "Ciphered, yes, but can be made out quite easily."

"And it helps us how?" Adele frowned.

"I am just about to find that out, my dear," he glanced up for a moment, squinting deeper into the ruins. "We didn't come here for nothing, I assure you. What I found are scraps, of course, but useful ones."

"Like what?"

He closed the journal, hiding it in the folds of his robes with ease of an experiences illusionist. "Some of the corpses are unusually discoloured, much different from the usual decay."

"Are they?" Adele shivered. "I'm afraid I didn't look at them that close."

"Well, trust my eyes, then. Add to that wounds not deep enough to kill, and the scent, coupled with the discolouration of the skin…" noticing her puzzled expression, he sighed. "They died from poison, and an unusual one at that. You won't find it in any of the apothecaries or potion shops in Neverwinter. But it is a local favourite among several of the less friendly assassins' guilds in Luskan. I've taken a sample from some of the bodies - I think it will serve as a valuable piece of evidence."

"If you say so," she shrugged. "…Just let me know when you think we are done. Considering how much time it'll take us to bury them, I'm afraid we'll fumble until dark…" she stopped, seeing Sand heave another sigh, this time a doomed one. "What? I bet there's plenty of shovels in the barns…"

…_not to mention that one can crack a skull with a shovel easily… _

_Don't._

…_but that requires taking it, of course, which no one did…_

_Don't!_

"As I have already told our dear Shandra," Sand pointed out, "we _cannot_ bury them."

"…What? Why?"

"We are in Luskan grounds. It is their territory. Any… interference on our part can be easily made to look like a trespass and violation."

Adele pursed her lips, doing her best to stomach his words, and scowled at the crows that took their place on the leafless tree nearby, clearly waiting for the people to leave so they could go back to their feast.

_No wonder Shandra looked so murderous._

"So we… we shall just leave them like this?"

Sand studied her, not answering straight away – and when he finally did, his voice sounded uncharacteristically gentle. "If you decide we shouldn't, I would not stop you. But please, my dear, contemplate _your_ position. I know Torio. She senses mistakes and slips as good as a shark feels a tiniest drop of blood in an ocean. Not to mention that, technically, you – the accused – are not even _supposed_ to be here."

"…Damn, a day full of revelations," she threw her head backwards, blinking at the bright sky, and rolled it from shoulder to the shoulder to ease the tension. It didn't help. "Nevalle hadn't mentioned _that_."

"Oh, I'm sure sir Nevalle failed to mention _many_ things to you," Sand answered dryly. "So what I was saying, is that you should be cautious in every way possible," he allowed slight amusement to quirk up to corners of his mouth. "I know _I _don't want an infuriated Duncan on my head. He tends to be too loud in that state."

"Because of what?" she chuckled, playing along with his lightness. It _did_ help. "Because you hadn't allowed me to tend to the bodies?"

"Were you to do so and be cleared of the charges nonetheless, he would surely be proud of your caring heart. But if Torio managed to use it against you and get you shipped off to Luskan…" he shook his head, "He would _hardly_ appear understanding."

"Fine, we'll leave them to rot, then," she shrugged with feigned easiness, turning away not to see Sand wince at her assumption, and looked around in search of a blonde head, but saw none. "Where is Shandra, by the way?"

"I believe she took it upon herself to check the houses."

…_Or took that as an excuse._

Closing her eyes, Adele rubbed them, ignoring the pulse ticking even in her eyelids, but forced herself to drop it and go back to sprinkling the wyrmsage. Though now, without the future burial, it seemed useless, sort of a fool's job done only for the sake of clearing the conscience. The first rain would wash the powder away. The first wolves or jackals to come from the nearest woods and hills would eat it away together with flesh.

She froze, sitting on her hunches at the next body, and for a second allowed her head to fall down, before jerking it upwards stubbornly, and glared at the dead face. The crunch of dried blood covering it was so thick that it was impossible to make out gender or age.

_Why the __Hells haven't you done anything?_ – she thought desperately, the vehemence of her mulling doing nothing to reduce its painfulness. – _How many of them had it been? A dozen? What, a whole mob couldn't do anything to a dozen of bastards? If not, then why the Hells haven't you run away at least?_

…_don't..._

_Why the __Hells have you made me go through this?_

She wanted to smash something. With a loud enough crack preferably, something that would shatter to small-small pieces. Wanted so badly that her nails were already mining their way into her palms, breaking through the skin by familiar route, opening barely healed crescent scars that were left in places of their previous digs…

_For all the __bloody gods, get a grip of yourself, girl! Screw the dead. You've got those alive, sick or desperate, to trouble about. So get through this as quick as possible and get them the Hells out of here. You can lament over your miserable ass later._

Something crashed behind her back, and Adele snapped her head around, looking at the doorsteps of the nearest house. It was Shandra, coming down the stairs, dragging a huge bundle of grimy half-burnt blankets and rugs – probably all of those that she had been able to find inside. Her movements were sharp, abrupt, her breathing haggard, and she was still trembling, but at the same time looked determined enough to send shivers down Adele's spine. Piling all the rugs on the ground, she recovered her breath and wiped the back of her palm against her mouth, leaving a smear of soot. Noticing Adele staring at her, she jerked her shoulders in a shrug and gestured at nothing in particular.

"To cover them at least or something…" her voice was hoarse, strained, and Adele brought herself up, coming up to her. "So… you spill that herb first, then I… I pull it over, and… and that's it."

Without a sound Adele did, sprinkling the wyrmsage on the chest of the nearest corpse, and Shandra threw one of the blankets over its head, almost hurling it, then moved further. Adele followed, on her way dropping a pinch of powder on a coaled dead dog. Somehow, but it was easier to do it together with someone. Glancing to the side, she noticed Qara joining the others as well, her head held high, her eyes still red, but already promising death to anyone who dared a comment. No one did, even Bishop took no notice, occupied with his tracks. He stopped, though, peering at something underfoot, studying, and Adele found herself watching, _waiting_ for him to actually find something worthy, trying to figure out if he did – by the tilt of his head, by the turn of his shoulders – and felt her heart jolt when he moved further, slightly, following something, came upon one of the bodies blocking the way and shoved it aside with his boot…

"Careful," Shandra growled.

The ranger glanced at her, questioningly, with an annoyed 'what's-wrong-_now_?' air, then back at the corpse, unable to grasp what the matter was – then, realizing, snorted:

"Blast it, farmgirl, don't cry, he's dead already, he didn't feel a thing."

"Can you pretend to show at least _some_ respect for the dead?"

"There's not much worthy of respect in being dead."

Shandra inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring in barely contained anger. "You just reached your new low, you animal."

He shrugged with the same irritated wry smirk. "I have the right - I'm alive, so the advantage's mine."

Any answer Shandra could come up didn't matter to Adele. Blind white-hot fury frothed up, robbed her mind of any sort of control over her body, and before she even realized her feet had already carried her half-way towards him, covering the remaining distance in long hard strides. She didn't look underfoot, even when her sole landed on something soft, everything in the world fading and blurring save _him_, and so she went on, keeping her eyes on him, keeping her hand _away_ from her rapier – as impossible as it seemed – keeping her steps firm and fast…

She wanted to hurt him. She _needed_ to hurt him, for being here, for simply _standing_ here with that insolent smirk of his, for being _alright_ with everything, for saying all those things she didn't allow herself to even _think_…

He moved his gaze from Shandra to her, his smirk sharpening to that knife-like edge, his upper lip crawling upwards to bare a slice of his teeth, as if he was _glad_ she was coming, as if he _waited_ for her to – and if anything, it only fanned the pyre of her rage. Who did he think he was, presuming to _know_ her, to _guess_ her, to _solve_ her? He was no one, he was _nothing_, his place in the dirt under the feet, toppled over and trampled down into the very ash and mud he was standing on…

She didn't slower her pace, the need to hurt him clogging her throat, depriving her of the last bits of reign over her senses, and even her darkvision sprang forward, flooding everything around with blinding shades of crimson. She didn't care. She _had_ to hurt him. Because he was the only one here she _could_ hurt without remorse or guilt. Because he was the only one here who _deserved_ being hurt… deserved as much as she did.

With the slightest of moves Bishop shifted his stance, to meet her on equal grounds, his hand falling to his own scabbard, not touching but close enough to, were it to come to that. But she was no fool to run into him straightforward like this, and deftly stepped to the side, circling him, nearly cooing in glee upon seeing him tense, whirling on his heel to face her still, his eyes narrowing at the smile that spread slowly over her face. She stopped as abruptly as she started walking, tossing her head up, folding her arms – and noticed how his hand moved faintly in the air, with the corner of her eye seeing Karnwyr freeze in his tracks mid-trot at the silent command, even though his whole furry carcass trembled with the wish to move, to jump, to protect…

"Something you need?" Bishop purred lowly, quirking his brow.

Her anger found the way out of her throat, in a fit of short cutting laugh. "Me? No. Do _you_?" she arched her brow, mimicking his expression. "Really, lovely, you want you face broken – just crash it into the wall."

"Oh, and in what way exactly had I failed to please Her Highness _this_ time?"

"…Fine, Bishop, you despise them for being dead, we all got that. But they are already _dead_. Whatever flaws or shortcomings or _stupidity_ they had in your opinion, they had already paid the price. And your despising and desecration won't make them any _deader_, no matter how much you seem to want to," she smiled again at the nearly imperceptible tightening in his jaw, not knowing what chord she had struck, but glad there _was_ a chord in the first place. "So keep yourself in hands, ranger. I need your _cold_ head here."

For a moment she thought he would loose it. But only for a moment, because the next one he sighed, shifting his weight to his heels lazily, and stared her down, his face arranged back into its indifferent bored mask.

"…And here I had a present for you," he chided and clicked in his tongue in disapproval. "But seeing your behaviour, I don't even know if you deserve one anymore."

Adele eyed him carefully, not taking her gaze off his face even as he stared pointedly underfoot, then back at her, inviting to follow his stare. It could be a trick, one of his unpredictable backheels…

"Come on, princess, you can look," he murmured, his eyes glinting with sudden amusement. "I won't jump on you while you are not watching."

She did. Stared at the dark burnt ground, crisscrossed by footprints, traces of something being dragged and deep ruts from the wheels of some wagon, half-hidden under sand and soot.

"…Ooooh," she breathed out in mock rapture, staring back at Bishop wide-eyed. "Tracks!"

Irritation rippled his features. "Are you really this blind and stupid or are you just pretending?"

She would have been angered - but she already _was_, to the depths where hardly anything else could make her angrier. And even in her seething mind she understood all too well that Bishop wouldn't have bothered with attracting her attention to something unimportant. She took a moment, though, to glance around in exasperation – only now noticing others staring at the two of them, at the scene they had thrown in the middle of corpse-littered street, completely forgetting about surroundings – before glaring back at the ground.

Tracks, indeed. She could even make out his and hers footprints, those were fresh, overlapping and smearing older ones, partly wiped off, but still discernable…

She blinked, her anger slowly draining to cold dread at understanding. She wouldn't have noticed, really, if it wasn't for her own feet and prints being there, close enough to compare…

"…My size," she whispered.

"But too deep for your weight," Bishop added, his voice floating after her as she slowly dropped to sit on her haunches. Her fingers were trembling with a totally irrational wish to touch those footprints, but at the same time afraid to, as if they could bite her. "So? Should I fetch the wizard?"

Adele made an uncertain affirmative gesture, realizing she couldn't take her eyes off the prints. Revulsion rolled up her gullet, and she flinched, suddenly feeling dirty, violated, a feeling so real and tangible it turned the one she experienced back at Port Llast to a pale shade. Her gaze skidded around, finding the same prints, picking them up with mesmerized and disgusted fascination, following to where they led – and went there, not even straightening her legs fully, not giving herself time to think _why_ on the face of Toril she was doing it at all, concentrating only on her own feet, careful _not_ to place them by accident in one of those prints. The mere possibility of stepping into them made her sick.

_It was not me, it was not me, it was _not_ me…_

A dark-red blotch stopped her, and she drew in the air through her set teeth, finding herself almost poking into a purplish flesh of a neat smooth section that was the end of an opened neck of a corpse. She recoiled, but didn't avert her gaze, sliding it over the shoulders and back of the beheaded man, his legs curled under him…

…_**quartermaster begging on his knees… **_

Adele grinded her teeth against a wish to whimper over the memory of Alaine's voice.

"It takes much strength to slice off the head of a full-grown man," she heard Sand above her, but didn't look up at him, "especially in one motion."

"What does it mean?" Shandra, her voice still coarse.

"That our dear girl could not have managed such a blow even if she wanted," his words were accompanied by rustle of fabric, and Adele found the elf squatting at her side, also peering at the body. "And the killer was obviously wielding a broad flat blade, which you, my dear, don't resort to, am I correct?" he glanced at her for confirmation.

Adele gave him none, licking her lips, and narrowed her eyes at the cut. Something was wrong. Wrong even for the whole overwhelming _wrongness_ of the deed in itself. Cocking her head to match the angle of the slice, she swished her palm absently through the air, repeating the motion that separated the man's head from his body.

It didn't match. She would have done it differently…

"Right-hander," she hissed the word like a curse, rising to her feet abruptly, making Shandra reel backwards not to crash into her. "Right-fucking-hander."

"…My dear," Sand drawled warningly, but Adele no longer listened, frantically looking around.

She couldn't find the traces anymore, partly because of people coming up, trampling the prints with their own.

But she needed to, didn't she?

She turned around on her heels and gave a start as she ended up facing her own reflection in the dull steel surface of a breastplate. With pains, but she managed to glance away. The reflected woman didn't look good for sure.

"Adele?" at least he didn't touch her anymore, she gave him that – she wasn't sure if she would have broken into tears or slapped him if he tried. Lifting her head up, she stared into his darkened eyes, pained wrinkles cutting their way in their corners… "Adele, _please_… Stop torturing yourself like this."

"…I will," she nodded, cracking a small smile. "I will, Casavir, I promise. In time."

Not giving him a possibility to answer, she darted her gaze around, over the eyes of the rest of her companions, dismissing them in search of those only ones _uncaring_:

"Can you track him?"

Bishop smirked: "You mean 'her'? I believe it was still _her_ when escaping."

She cringed, but went on, clinging to his matter-of-factness with force that made even metaphorical knuckles turn white. "Him, her, it, whatever. _Lorne_. Can you track him down from here?"

"All the way to Luskan?" he shook his head. "They had enough time to make it back to the city by now. You don't really need _me_ to find Luskan, right?"

"That's not-"

Her words were cut short by Sand suddenly throwing his hand up, demanding silence, and her mouth snapped shut with almost audible clank. The wizard was staring behind her, and so she turned – but saw nothing but the same destroyed village.

"What is it?" Neeshka hissed not far from her.

"Heard something moving in the well," the wizard murmured.

"I heard it too," Elanee nodded.

"Someone survived?" Shandra asked hopefully, eyeing the blackened stone-laying of the well.

"…Or some of the assassins _were_ stupid enough to wait," Bishop added, reaching for his bow.

Exchanging quick glanced, they moved towards the well, not saying a word. In the established silence the lonely shutter still clattered in the distance, and the wind rustled through gaping holes in the houses. Adele was the first to reach the well, staring into the darkness of its opening, and switched to her darkvision, this time consciously. The shaft was grey, cold, without any traces of red that would have indicated the warmth of someone's body – at least, nearby. Unsheathing her blade, she cast a considering glance over the winch and shadoof, scorched but otherwise undamaged – and before anyone could stop her grabbed the rope and jumped down.

Twisting her arm, she twined the rope around her wrist to stop her lowering, flinching when the cord dug into her flesh, and froze hanging just above the water that gleamed under her feet in the column of light from above. In any other situation Adele knew she would have made a perfect aim of herself, but scanning the stones and the passageway more thoroughly she saw that no one was around for an attack. Easing her hold on the rope, she slid slowly, without splashing, into the water – and had to bite back a gasp when the freezing liquid flooded her boots. Stepping to the side to melt into the shadow and keeping her weapon at ready, the woman glanced around once again and frowned, spotting what looked like a stone door deeper into the tunnel. Pursing her lips, she made a move in that direction, but lingered, a flash of pink on the side, in an alcove to her right drawing her attention. Waiting for a moment and making sure that whoever was there didn't mean to spring forward, she skirted the pool of water, advancing the niche…

…and stopped dead.

A boy… _the_ boy raised his huge black eyes to look at her, and a shadow of a smile slipped over his death-pale face.

"I knew I'd see you again," he said, "and you're finally here."

"…Gods," she whispered, scurrying up to him, then threw her head up, towards the opening of the well. "I'm fine! Shandra, drop down one of those blankets you've fetched!" she grasped the boy's shoulders, rubbing them violently to warm him up a bit. His skin was hardly much warmer than the moist stones around him. "Are you alright?"

He nodded calmly. "I'm hungry, but I'm okay."

A splash of water announced someone's heavy landing, and within a few moments Casavir stepped to Adele's side, holding out a dirty blanket.

"That rope could have snapped under the weight of your armour," she hissed at him, "and you could have broken you damned neck!"

"And you could have landed straight to your death by assassin's hand," the paladin replied, the evenness of his tone poorly concealing his thick reprehension. She flashed him a glare, but he held it easily, suddenly gracing her with a rare, even if grim, smile. "Let us not start enumerating."

Despite everything, but she found herself grinning back, turning back to the boy and wrapping the blanket tightly around his frame. Casavir frowned:

"Is this…?"

"Marcus," the boy nodded again, not minding that he was being shaken like a ragdoll while rubbed over.

"I'm Adele," the woman answered, still grinning, then jerked her head at the paladin. "The stubborn tin-head is Casavir." She secured the blanket around the boy, then rummaged through her belt-pouch, taking out a lump of slightly dry bread, and handed it to him. "There you go, eat."

The boy grabbed the bread, nibbling at it with readiness that seemed startling after his previous tranquility, and Adele looked at Casavir:

"We need to get him out of here."

The paladin looked up, then back at her, not voicing his thoughts – but Adele understood them nonetheless.

Whether the kid ought to see what was left of the village.

Adele spread her hands helplessly, indicating that there was nothing they could possibly do to avoid it, and Casavir, giving her a gloomy but agreeing nod in return, gathered the boy into his arms, stepping back towards the rope. Adele followed, her eyes glued to Marcus' pale face above his shoulder. The boy gazed at her in return, just as frighteningly calm, stuffing the last crumbs of bread into his mouth.

Khelgar caught the kid above, dragging him out of the well onto the surface, and Casavir stepped aside, letting Adele up first. Climbing out, she recovered her breath and had to smile at the sight of Shandra and Elanee, both women instantly fussing around the boy, bungling him tighter into the rag.

"He had been down there for the _whole time_?" Neeshka asked in unbelieving tone.

Adele shrugged: "So it seems."

"Gods, you soaked to your bones, poor thing," Shandra muttered, wrapping another blanket around the boy's bare feet.

"There was no place for me to hide, except in the well," Marcus explained. "when those men came, I knew they were the ones who would kill everyone. So I hid and watched them kill all the people," he sniffed back a sigh, looking at Adele. " I… I didn't want to look, but it felt important for me to see what happened, so I could tell you."

Adele nodded, feeling her insides clench painfully. The boy's face looked even paler in the daylight, but his dark eyes regarded everything with the same calmness, distant and attentive at once.

Sand settled to his heels in front of the boy, mechanically sweeping up the hem of his robes not to brush the ground:

"…I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Marcus."

"So what did you see, young Marcus?"

"Men came. There were twelve of them, I think. They had dark armour, and…" he shifted his gaze back to Adele, "...one of them looked like you. But I knew he wasn't."

"And _how_ did you know that?" Sand asked.

Marcus stared at him again, chewing his lip while trying to come up with words. "I… When I looked at her, really focused on her, she… started to look differently. I saw a man. He was huge and mean, like an ogre," he ran his hand over his hair, probably not even aware of the gesture. "And bald."

The world tilted to the side.

Sand was nodding, telling her something about how it must have been exactly the executor, the one who had stuck a deal with the dryad, about how useful Marcus' testimony could prove for the trial – but Adele didn't hear that.

_It can't be…_

…_**her own fingers, but much softer, without any calluses rubbed by the hilt of the rapier, sliding tentatively over a clean-shaved scalp of the man…**_

…_long-dead man!_

"Del?"

…_**her own voice, with a still-childish**__** peal ringing in it, laughing softly…**_

…_it can't be him, he is dead…_

"Lass? Hey, lassie?"

…"_**Lorne, damn, why did you do this? It makes you look like an angry egg!"**_

_It can't be! It is not!_

"…My dear?"

She blinked, staring right into the eyes of her lawyer, who was looking at her suspiciously.

"Um… what?" Adele shook her head and smiled, "I'm afraid I lost it."

"I said we should take Marcus with us back to Neverwinter," Sand repeated, his eyes still searching her face thoroughly.

"…Yes," she glanced at the boy, who did not object, looking back at all of them. "I mean, of course, we are not leaving him here at any rate," she turned to Casavir. "Look, take him with you to the cave we've spend the night in. You and Shandra should be enough protection for him. Will you lead them back there, El?" the druidess inclined her head in agreement. "Good. We'll meet you, guys, at camp, then. There seems to be a passage leading further underground in the well, I want to have a closer look at it. Then we'll join you."

"You sure?" Elanee inquired softly.

"Yes."

"Very well," the druidess held her hand out for the boy to take and smiled at him. "You must be tired, spent so much time there…"

Marcus moved his bony shoulders in a shrug. "I knew you would come, so I simply waited. Oh, I almost forgot," he dove under the hem of his dirty short, towards the belt of his trousers, and took out a knife, turning to Bishop, unmistakably finding the ranger who chose to stay back, behind the others. "Thank you," the boy said, handing him the dagger. Bishop quirked up a surprised eyebrow, but smirked, grasping the hilt:

"About time I got it back."

"It helped me to survive," Marcus nodded, staring deeply into Bishop's eyes – when suddenly his pale lips twitched in another faint ghost-like smile, as if he and the ranger shared some sort of secret. "Stabbed one in the leg."

For a fracture of moment the ranger's hand lingered in the air, still holding the knife, his narrowed eyes locked on the boy, but then he drew back, sliding the blade into its customary noose on the belt of his quiver, and stepped away from the well. Marcus followed his move, but his stare soon left Bishop and came to rest upon the remains of Ember. He frowned, but otherwise didn't change in his face.

"We need to go," Elanee put a hand on his shoulder, gently trying to turn him away from the sight.

Marcus nodded, this time slowly, and sighed. "I told them to leave," his tone was devoid of any emotions even as he looked back at them. "They didn't listen."

"…I'm sorry," Adele whispered.

"They never do," Bishop grated out, eyeing the remains, then turned to the rest. "So what, are we moving – or is it time for another requiem mass?"

"Moving, moving," the woman answered quickly before any fight could start and smiled down at Marcus. "Everything's gonna be alright. Ever been to Neverwinter?"

"No."

"It's pretty there, you'll see…"

She watched them go, Shandra and Elanee flanking the boy protectively, Casavir leading the way, then eyed those who stayed.

"So… you all are going down?"

"Sure," Khelgar snorted. "What did ya think?"

"Khelgar, you are _limping_."

"And?" the dwarf gave his head a final shake. "Lass, with yer luck, I bet ya'll make two steps and get attacked by… dunno… giant glowing spiders or somethin'."

Adele grinned her defeat and ushered them to the well. Bishop slid down the first, followed by Neeshka, Grobnar, Khelgar, Sand – who managed to shoot another calculating glance at the woman before descending – and even Qara, her face thankfully gaining back its colour. The woman was the last, lingering a bit to cast another long stare over the remains, suddenly feeling like she should do or say something – but there was no one to see her or hear her, not anymore, so she just shook her head and grabbed the rope, slipping into the darkness…


	27. XXVII: Personal Touch

_A/N: __I'm not dead! Sorry if I made you think otherwise!_

_To all my wonderful __readers – thank you, for support, appreciation, reviewing, alerting, pm-ing and all the stuff even during my absence. For your patience most of all. Hope a long chapter will make up for the delay.

* * *

_

**X****XVII:** Personal Touch

There was always plenty of spiders in the Mere. Bony fidgety creatures, they favoured moist earthy caves in the shadows of the swamp, making their nests, breeding their offsprings and setting around thick sticky webs to hold back the lizardlings' hunters, not wishing for their body parts to become primitive adornments and weapons. Arachnids never ventured as far as to threaten human settlements, smart enough to figure that the game was not worth the candle, and attacked only those who trespassed on the territory considered theirs.

Still, when being old (or careless) enough to sometimes sneak away into the Mere all by herself, Adele used to come across their remains not far from West Harbour, mostly youngsters who probably appeared to be just as careless and curious as their half-elven neighbour. They were brought down by militia patrols, their angular carcasses left lying off the beaten paths, looking strangely vulnerable.

Adele had usually taken time to drag their corpses away from the path and bury them in the depths of the swamp. The mere thought of somebody stepping on those fragile shells, crashing them, hurting them, even the dead ones, was dreadful to her.

Now, as she brought her foot down to squash the head of a glowing arachnid, those sudden memories seemed like one Hells of a cruel irony.

_Y__ep, people change. _

"Del, behind you! No! _Another_ behind!"

She hurled around on her heels, the walls of the cave and figures of her companions swirling in one blurred tide of grayish-pink in her darkvision, and swished the blade on impulse without even seeing the threat yet. It caught the small spider's thin forelegs, cutting through them right at the joints, and the creature stumbled, with a screech falling off the wall to the damp earth. Without hesitation Adele drove her weapon down, piercing the gleaming round belly, but somehow the crawler managed to conjure up a spell, and a jolt of electrical shock rushed up the rapier straight into her arm, seizing her muscles and clamping up her teeth. Adele staggered backwards, spitting a curse, and kicked the arachnid into the wall with enough force to crack its body, insides spilling out in greasy dribble.

_Focus._

It was all she had done. Focused. To some extent, it helped, cutting down her contemplations and worries only to what was going on around her. It was a weakness Adele allowed herself to enjoy. People of Ember were still cold and dead, Marcus' words still nagged her somewhere in the back of her mind, but at least she had an excuse to shove those brambles away for the time. And focus.

On spiders. Many-many glowing spiders.

_Someone out there really has it __in for me._

Forcing her partly paralyzed limbs back under control, she nodded her thanks to Neeshka quickly, then rushed past Sand, his lips and hands moving in unison weaving a spell what seemed like right from the air, past Bishop sending arrows into spiders that made perfect marks of themselves with their glowing in the darkness, and sent her blade in a low dive into the junction between the head and the back of another arachnid. Ahead of her Khelgar and Grobnar took full advantage of their height and easy reach, making short work out of the little pests. But even with their number notably reduced by Qara's raining fire, the spiders still swamped the floor and the walls of the cave.

It was bad enough they had bumped into the giant spider on their way _back_, after already being sure the caves had been cleaned of the glowing spell-casting monsters (and reporting so to the goblins who had asked for that in the first place). But the spider appeared to be pregnant to the pile, and the mortal chop of a dwarven axe that split its abdomen also sent hundreds of shiny eight-legged kiddies flooding out of their mommy's belly, every one the size of a good healthy puppy, already crackling with magic and fully intending to destroy anybody standing in the path of their just-received lives.

Never before had Adele heard Khelgar mustering such colourful oaths as the moment all the loads of spiders showered on him.

Planting her boot into the back of another arachnid, Adele flatted it, hearing Neeshka choking between a shriek and a giggle as the tiefling whirled to avoid the spiders and bringing them down at the same time. Adele felt she was starting to snicker as well. Really, the whole macabre abhorrence of what was happening appeared so hellish it was almost hysterical.

Noticing another bunch of pests near the wall, the woman darted there - but was stopped by an arm wrapping around her midsection, jerking her backwards with force that nearly knocked all the air out of her. Before she could come round to comprehend what was happening, a dazzling bolt of magic sizzled the air just through the spot she had been standing on the moment before, and Adele stumbled away even more, momentarily blinded, until her back crashed into the all-too-familiar chest, eliciting a displeased grunt from its owner.

"Watch it, princess," Bishop growled softly into her ear as his hold around her tightened, steadying her on her feet. "I might get it wrong."

She squinted, white spots fading in her eyes, to find out that Sand's spell had put an end to the most of the spiders, and Khelgar was quite successfully trampling down the remaining ones, still cursing vividly. Seeing that her help was no longer needed, Adele took a deep breath and finally let herself go, the laughter bubbling out of her chest so hard her knees went weak, and she had to lean back on Bishop not to fall over.

"Well now," his voice sounded amused this time, and Adele felt his palm coming higher, lingering just above her scar, above her heart beating so frantically it was surely close to breaking through her ribs and falling out straight into his hand. His fingers tapped over the leather of her jerkin in tact with her pulse. "Someone's high on bloodbath again, eh?"

"A little," Adele chuckled coldly, squirming out of his grasp before it became too bold. "But don't get overly excited."

Oh, she was still mad at him alright – but even more so she was mad at herself for letting him and all the crap that had fallen out of his mouth back at Ember get under her skin. And after the previous spider-mess, seeing his arrows rarefy the ranks of arachnids, she had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that his usefulness outshone his assholeness after all.

_Is 'assholeness' even a word? Or should it be 'assness'?_

Adele snorted another laugh. She _was_ high, no denying that, high on finally getting an opportunity to reach and destroy at least _something_, on regaining at least some sort of control – even if that control was only over her blade, her hand, the battlefield and her damned life.

Though, it wasn't really that little, was it?

"_Shit!_" Neeshka angrily shoved away a root dangling from the ceiling of the cave that nearly slapped her face, probably leaving a feeling too much like a touch of another spider. The tiefling's eyes shone red as she scanned the darkness around for any signs of surviving arachnids. "Seems like all of them?"

"Don't see any," Khelgar announced from his spot deeper in the tunnel, his rumbling voice a bit too loud for safety. Adele didn't even have to look to sense Bishop flinch at that.

Soon enough the dwarf himself came closer, wiping his bald head and beard from the slime and pieces of web, and glared at Sand of all people:

"Thought 'tis jest a firehead we had to watch out for," he grumbled. "What's wrong with ya, mages, firin' yer spells everywhere?"

Adele expected the wizard to cut Khelgar off as efficiently as everyone and always, but instead the wizard simply whispered:

"I hate spiders."

The woman shook her head, stifling a smile. Funny that after everything they had already witnessed, it took merely some crawlers to make her immaculate composed lawyer lose his temperance. As the elf glanced uneasily around the cave, slender fingers trembling visibly by his sides, Adele had a distinct impression he considered scurrying off any moment. Only now, seeing his illness, did she think that Duncan was probably aware of Sand's phobia when making a joke that she was free to send the wizard into spider-dens in search for clues.

_Evil-evil __uncle._

"Oh please, and who loves 'em?" Neeshka snorted, trying to reach for the back of her shoulder to scratch it. One of the spiders had actually managed to get at the rogue's back, forcing her to flat her torso against the wall of the cave to squash it. Not the most pleasant of feelings, at any rate. "…Grobnar aside, he loves everyone."

The gnome jerked his head, both in protest and to shake out the dust from his hair. "I must say it's hard to be fond of those trying to kill me, hard even for me."

"What, they aren't even _fascinating_?" the tiefling widened her eyes in innocent surprise.

Grobnar frowned, actually considering, then shrugged: "Well, in a sense, yes, they are. I always thought it to be peculiar, how they manage to operate eight limbs so smoothly – I mean, humanoids at times stumble and tangle in _two_ legs, what it must mean to have eight of them!"

"Right, let's stand right here all day and think about _that_," Qara stamped her staff into the ground pointedly, resting free hand on her hip. "Since we have no idea where we are at all, why not waste time counting legs, really!"

"Why, I know where we are," Grobnar beamed.

"Just try and say that we are in a cave – and you are dead."

"Wherever we are, there's only one way to go – forward," Adele shrugged, moving towards them and trying her best not to pay attention how the ground under her feet crunched with dead spiders. She raised her free hand, keeping it in front of her in advance and pushing away the vegetation that weaved its tricky way above their heads, and strewed dust and bits of earth generously at every disturbance. Judging from the thickness of roots they were moving under Duskwood already. Or, at least, Adele wanted to hope of that. "If goblins are to be believed, we should be able to get to the surface somewhere not far from the Grove. And seeing that we are already marching for good two hours, it won't be long."

"'If _goblins_ are to be _believed',_" Qara repeated in a slow sarcastic drawl, following the woman and straining her eyes at the darkness ahead, obviously still not totally over the fact they had been helping goblins at all. "Goblins are vermin. And _these_ goblins built a sanctuary over a shiny stone, so they are also crazy. To believe them takes some special kind of stupid."

Adele smiled. "I'll accept your apologies later, once we end up in Duskwood."

"Right," the sorceress sniffed. "Wait and hope."

"Don't I always?"

Qara didn't answer, shaking her head ruefully, and Adele's smile widened. At least the girl was surely coming back to her usual self. Was doing it in way too vigorous steps, perhaps, but the woman could understand her need to compensate for the weakness.

Not that she personally minded goblins. Not that she had ever met them at all until now, and anyone would have admitted that for the first acquaintance with the race she got a lucky card. Much better than with orcs, anyway. It was probably just some trick of her mind, looking for a way out of horrors of Ember, but coming down from the destroyed village littered with dead and running into a small secluded community of green-skinned creatures, with their small rusty weapons, suspicious glances and broken Common, left her grinning all the way like a fool who had just witnessed the cutest thing ever. And when the chieftain proclaimed that they had actually managed to kill one of the Luskans escaping from Ember, Adele felt like sweeping all of the clan into a huge embrace, dance with them away into the sunset and make slow tender love to every one of them on some faraway picturesque riverbank in the gleams of fading golden rays.

Really, she would have got rid of the spiders besieging them even without a price.

But the price was. A small metal ring, unremarkable in general, but with a familiar weave of daggers adorning the signet. Circle of Blades. Sand had swooped at it like a hawk, another piece in his puzzle, so Adele left it to him. Not without personal benefit, since it took a bunch of his attention away from _her _– she still had an uneasy feeling that the wizard marked her reaction towards Marcus' description of the butcher of Ember.

…_Which is stupid. __Can't be anything but that._

Adele chased the thought away, keeping her eyes at the tunnel in vain attempt to leave behind her qualms, her tiredness, her spine that hurt from all the walking and fighting and her feet growing numb in cold wet boots. It was Khelgar who led the way, but still she felt obliged to look out for dangers as well.

After all, their sharp-eyed tracker was merely a human – thus here, in the darkness, he was as good as blind.

_I bet at moments like this you wish you've been at least 'not fully an elf', too, ranger, __- _she thought with no small amount of gloating delight, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder.

Delight didn't last for long. Even without a possibility to see, Bishop still didn't leave an impression of being blind. He never missed a step, somehow wholly aware of his surroundings, just appeared a bit more tense than usual. His sixth sense didn't fail him either, as it took him just a moment to feel someone's watching him, and, even without seeing her, he turned his head to face the woman. Adele barely managed to turn away, on impulse, without realizing it wasn't really necessary.

_Gods, Delly, __it's like you are playing hide-and-seek with yourself._

She smiled grimly, giving her head a slow shake, and sighed, suddenly feeling that the ranger's alertness left her strangely relieved.

_Now when in the__ Nine Hells have I become so dependent on his perception?_

Wincing at the thought, she chose to stare back at Khelgar and the way forward. The tunnel seemed to become narrower with every step, and Adele had to wonder if it wouldn't turn to a needle-eye somewhere ahead. Surely goblins weren't lying about a way out - but to think of it, their understanding of a suitable passage could be much smaller than that of their 'guests'.

Yet, much to Adele's joy, the ceiling dove upwards, and the burrow widened to a grotto, deliciously airy after the stuffy narrow walkway.

Khelgar grunted, coming to a halt, and looked back at the woman, grinning:

"Firehead ain't gonna like it."

Adele came up to his side and cursed under her breath, running her eyes between the leading-out tunnels.

_Three_ of them, to be precise.

Suddenly, all she wanted was to sit down. Slump her back against the wall, rest her head there, stretch out her legs, and simply sit. Perhaps, have a drink. Not necessarily something strong, just liquid. Close her eyes. Tightly. And be deaf.

It actually took several moments to overcome the desire, but she managed.

"Your bet?" Adele asked Khelgar quietly, relying on his dwarven sense of underground or something. The best she could offer was an 'eeny, meeny, miny, mo' – and probably not only Qara wasn't going to like it.

Khelgar gave a sage stroke to his beard, studying the roads, and uttered an unintelligible noise.

"What's the halt?" Neeshka wondered, sliding between them and still scratching her shoulder absent-mindedly, but her hand stopped as she saw the crossroad. "…Oh."

Adele looked back at the others coming up. _Okay, guys, I don't know where we are and how to get out. How 'bout going back?_

…_Wonder how large of a fireball it takes to __turn me to a pile of cinders?_

"…You can't be serious," Qara groaned, noticing the tunnels, and almost dropped her staff as her hands fell down helplessly.

Adele wished Casavir was there. Or, at least, wished she could ooze confidence like he did. What she didn't wish for sure was going back. Climbing up the well. Appearing _there_ again. She could still taste wet ash at the back of her throat, could still feel the after-smell of burnt wood and meat stuck to the insides of her nostrils. If she never saw Ember again, it would be too soon.

As her companions eyed the tunnels, no one voicing a suggestion to actually turn back and use a known route, Adele thought that, at least, she wasn't alone in it.

"I like that one," Neeshka finally decided, pointing at one of the tunnels. "It seems to go up."

"Ceiling 's also up, fiendlin'."

"You don't say, Stumpy!"

"We can always drag one of those goblins here and make it lead us out," Bishop pointed out, though his voice sounded absent as he was skimming the darkness around.

Adele paid little attention to his words, also casting her eyes over the cave, trying to get what he was looking for. The ceiling was indeed up, and _far_ up at that, sewn with entangled roots that made anything there was to see into a mess. At least the stones and earth kept their cold colour, so the woman dropped it and looked back at Neeshka still arguing with Khelgar. Adele's darkvision illuminated the outlines of her figure, dull red of her bare neck, grey of her leathers and cloak, warm crimson of a trickle making its way slowly from under the shoulder plate down the rogue's armor…

"Neesh, hold on," she grabbed the tiefling's elbow, making her stop the talking. "You are bleeding."

"What?" Neeshka frowned at the woman, reaching for her shoulder again, and fingered a gash in her leathers wet with moisture. "Damn it, I thought those were spider's guts or something…"

"…No, it's not," Adele whispered, moving Neeshka's cloak out of the way. "Crap, I can't make it out properly without-"

Her words turned to a moan as the cave drowned in the flood of blinding burning-white light, followed by muffled curses from all directions.

"And you are all welcome," muttered Qara, blinking away tears caused by the flash, and raising her opened palm with a small ball of bright light lying there.

"Are we?" Bishop growled almost right into her face, circling the girl to stand closer to the tunnels to forestall a possible attack drawn by the light.

The sorceress followed him with a dismayed glare: "Yes, do a favour and stay away. Preferably downwind."

Letting their voices flow unnoticed by her, Adele rubbed her shut lids furiously, almost hoping to make her eyesight get used to the light manually, and switched her attention back to Neeshka.

…_Oh, this can't be good__,_ - she narrowed her eyes, as if smaller field of vision could make the wound smaller too, and almost called out for Elanee, but quickly remembered that the druidess was nowhere near as well. - _Hells, smart of me to send her away..._

"Sand?"

Neeshka blinked. "Sand? What's 'Sand' for? What's there?" the tiefling craned her neck to have a look, but the wizard was already at her side and immediately took a hold of her head, turning it away, so that the movements of her spine didn't shift the stump of spider's leg that got embedded in her flesh. "Hey now, that's my frigging shoulder! I want to see it!"

"Don't ya _feel_ it?" Khelgar asked incredulously, coming up closer and staring at the damage.

"Well, I feel _something_'s there… and that 'something' hurts like shit, but is it really that awf-?"

"Do you think it's poisonous?" Adele asked Sand without taking her eyes from Neeshka, who went silent immediately.

"Possible, but unlikely," the elf pursed his lips, studying the wound. "It is not a fang, after all." Neeshka grew rigid under his hand, and Sand patted her lightly. "We'll have to pull it out, then wrap you up in a bandage," he glanced at Adele, "and do our best to deliver you to your druidic healer as soon as possible."

"Well, if goblins are to be believed," Qara teased, "it won't take long, will it?"

"If you know a quicker way, my dear, I suggest you start digging."

Adele chewed her lip, looking around the cave quickly, almost hoping to find a convenient secret passage right towards Elanee. She had to admit she didn't like the magical light, too intense and so white that it appeared nearly blue. Its gleams made all her companions look old, wax-pale, dirty and angry.

"Gee, sweet," Neeshka grouched. Even her ever-ruddy cheeks seemed colourless. "Can't you give me some potion or something?"

"You have a strange idea about the ability of slightly enchanted liquid to recreate flesh," Sand sighed.

Qara snorted: "And you have a strange way of claiming your impotency."

"…Dear girl, why and how in this life have you come to believe that everyone is addressing _you_?"

"Argh, shut it, both of ya!" Khelgar snapped. "Ma fiendlin' got a spider's leg in her an' is bleedin' all over the place!"

Neeshka screwed her eyes tight. "Dammit, people, it hurts all the more from your caterwauling! Do something already, or you'll get yourself a useless one-handed thief!"

"I wouldn't claim it so loudly if I were you, demon," Bishop commented from his place still with his back to them. "You know what they do with crippled horses, don't you?"

"If Elanee were here," Neeshka answered grimly, "she would say that they are healed and treated with respect and care for the rest of their days."

"An' what _do_ ya, folks, do with crippled horses?" Khelgar asked, confused.

"Much the same as with rabid dogs," Adele uttered quietly, but distinctly enough for it to be heard. She couldn't see Bishop's face wholly from her place, but the twitch in his cheek said pretty bluntly of his smirk. Holding back from further snapping, Adele pushed away a piece of leather covering Neeshka's shoulder, trying to peel as much of clothes from around the wound as possible, and looked at Sand. "Good enough?"

"It should do," the wizard agreed, giving the tiefling another careful pat. "Ready, my dear?"

Grobnar at his side fidgeted nervously: "Um, I want to-"

"_Later_," Adele hissed, coming around Neeshka to stand in front of her.

The tiefling shot her one look, gloomy and alarmed at the same time, but didn't say a thing, allowing Adele to enfold an arm around her neck. The woman pressed Neeshka gently towards her chest to prevent her jerking and nodded to Sand.

"Very well," the elf answered calmly – and without any further warnings grabbed the spider's leg and in one swift motion tore it free.

"Sweetmotherof-" Neeshka squeaked, digging her fingers into Adele's back, and the woman gritted her teeth not to squeak in unison.

"That's that, fiendlin'," Khelgar gave her a toothy grin, watching Sand deftly dressing the wound. "Relax, 'tis all over."

"You shove that thing up your ass and then relax yourself," Neeshka whimpered, still squeezing Adele in a bone-crashing embrace.

Grobnar cleared his throat, "So, back to my previous remark-"

"Or better shove _Grobnar_ up your ass, head first," this time it was more of a snarl, and Adele had to bit down her cheeks from the inside not to snort.

Noticing that Sand finished patching up, Adele carefully unglued Neeshka from herself and backed off, trying to ignore that the ache in her chest didn't ease the same moment. Left on her own, the tiefling shifted her shoulder, checking the tightness of the bandage, then tried to wriggle her fingers, but dropped it quickly, cursing.

"Ya'll be fine, don' worry," Khelgar assured her. "Tree-hugger will mend ya."

"Indeed, none of the bones have been damaged, so the healing won't take long," Sand added, wiping his hands casually.

"Certainly hope so. Kind of got used to having this arm," sighing heavily, she glowered down at Grobnar tugging at the hem of her armour. "_What_ is it?"

The gnome pointed upwards: "There's a spider watching us."

Bishop's head snapped around from surveying the tunnel even faster than all the blood drained from Sand's face. Magic rushed to the tips of wizard's fingers, but the ranger was quicker, sending an arrow into what seemed like a simple slab of earth to Adele. Only following the trajectory of his shot did she notice a couple of tree-roots moving, folding, being drawn into a crevice above, fast enough to avoid the hit – and the arrow-tip scratched only the wall of the cave.

It was the last thing she saw – that very moment Qara closed her palm, dousing the attractive light, and everything disappeared in darkness.

"…Should _I _kill 'er?" Khelgar wondered at no one.

"Later," Adele muttered, narrowing her eyes to banish the bright outlines of things around that seemed to get burnt into her retina, the world gaining back grey and red shades. "No one moves."

"Oh, where did it go?"

"…and speaks."

"Why?"

Sand silently clamped a hand over Grobnar's mouth. The gnome tried to say something in his defense, but his movements only served to send few magical sparkles dancing over the wizard's knuckles and fingers, effectively making Grobnar grow quiet.

Running her gaze over the wall, Adele finally found what she thought to be the same crack. It was wider than she took it to be at first, roots dangling all around it, making it hard to discern any spider legs even if there were any. She wanted to step to the side for a better view, but hastily decided against it. If the spider got out, it would bare its glowing body for a mark – and Adele had a feeling that even if an arrow didn't kill her on spot, Bishop would probably finish her off for standing in the way of his shot.

Something moved, and Adele licked her lips, spotting two or three legs sprawling out of the crevice carefully, almost tentatively, fingering the wall around as if to find a better way for their owner to get down.

"There it is…" Khelgar whispered gleefully somewhere at her elbow, and Adele felt him give a swing to his axe. "Aye, creepy-crawly, come to dwarf."

Adele frowned. The spider was obviously well aware of their presence, but didn't rush into attack, neither tried to get away. Instead it finally chose a most reliable spot of the wall. Two more legs followed, securing the position, and then a multi-eyed head slid out of the chink. The spider paused, asserting the surroundings, then carefully slipped its body further, baring the smallest slice of shining abdomen…

An arrow ripped the air before Adele could even start opening her mouth to stall the shot. The spider jerked back, throwing up its forelegs with speed that was enthrallingly scary, and fended the bolt, sending it flying to the side and earning an astonished whistle from Khelgar. The woman heard Bishop utter a particularly vile blasphemy, followed by a quick scratching noise of another arrow being dragged from the quiver.

"Hold it!" she shouted.

Bishop froze with a drawn bowstring, his narrowed eyes moving towards the sound of her voice: "What?"

"Hold," Adele repeated quieter. "It doesn't attack."

"...And you want to wait until it does?"

"What's it about holding?" Qara demanded from her place at the side. Even from her spot Adele could feel the thickness and heat of air around the sorceress as the girl was accumulating power.

"Aye, lass, what's on yer mind?" Khelgar joined. "What d'ya want from the crawly?"

"No idea," she confessed, rubbing her neck and keeping her gaze on the spider. "I think it is the crawly that wants something from us."

"And what do we care?" the sorceress wondered.

"...We'll see," Adele murmured, taking a careful step forward.

"Hope you know what you are doing," Neeshka muttered, already gripping one of her blades in an undamaged arm. "I'm not much of a help now, you know."

The woman nodded without looking at her, her own palm unconsciously stroking the hilt of the rapier. The spider hesitated, awaiting another attack - but when none came, moved forward, sliding out of its safe cove into the open…

…and Adele realized that she wouldn't blame Sand if he fainted.

The spider wasn't just bigger than any of its brethren. It was, in fact, much bigger than _anything_ they had to face so far. Compared to it, even the dire wolves back from the Grove looked like breakfast snacks.

"Holy shit," Neeshka whispered, moving back, closer to Sand and Grobnar, who looked ridiculously alike with similarly widened eyes.

"By Clangeddin an' his lovin' Grandma…" Khelgar breathed out. "If _this _thing 's pregnant, we'll get damned washed away by the tide."

"What does it wait for?" Qara hissed.

"Perhaps it's smart enough to figure out we're more trouble than dinner's worth," Bishop replied.

"But it _did_ crawl out," Neeshka objected. "We've dealt with all its buddies, and it still came out."

"So? It's supposed to grieve for them?"

Adele barely heard their whispers. She stared. Simply stared, not paying attention to some small part of her mind that still preserved caution and was now convulsing in hysterics at the fact that she was facing a ten feet tall magic-wielding monster. After all, she was _already_ facing it. What harm could come from doing it further?

The arachnid didn't move, observing her without any hostility, but rather with a strange air of uncertainty or consideration. Taking that as a good sign, Adele took a step closer, trying to stay out of striking range and at the same time to keep her movements calm. She even had an impulse to raise her hands in pacifying gesture, but managed to remember that thrown up front limbs was a part of battle-stance for any spider, so settled only not to touch her weapon.

As she advanced, the creature carefully moved to the other side, to maintain their distance. Adele stopped, watching it doing the same. After several moments of mutual considering, the spider edged a bit back. Not wishing to ruin its expectations, Adele shifted in opposite direction, following the border of their imaginary circle. The spider eyed her for a couple more heartbeats, then seemed to ease its posture, as if relieved by the result of their dancing.

"My dear," Sand's voice sounded strained, "as your lawyer and official representative I _insist_ that you get away from it."

Adele shot a fleeting jokingly-warning glance over her shoulder at the wizard – but forgot about him the moment she discovered that careful circling had ended up with her being positioned precisely between the spider and the others. Even more precisely, between it and Bishop, who still held his weapon at hand.

The spider actually managed to make a shield out of her.

Turning back, the woman stared squarely at the arachnid, almost skeptical. It was a hard feat to keep eye-contact with someone with such _eyes_, but from the position of the spider's head Adele could tell it was looking at her in return, and quite straightly. That, together with how carefully the creature chose its spot, said that skepticism was a waste.

"…Well, aren't you smart," she muttered under her breath, her lips stretching in a baffled unintentional smile.

The creature must have understood her - not the words, perhaps, but the meaning, the mood, her mere tone - because it dropped a bit more of its caution and moved closer. Still, even being quite sure the spider meant no harm, Adele tensed when its forelegs swiftly reached out towards her, and barely managed to wave her hand furiously behind her back for others to stall any actions. Tips of its limbs tapped lightly all over her arms, shoulders, neck and head, studying her by touch. She had to fight hard not to jerk at that, only wincing as several stresses of her hair stuck to chitin got ripped out when it drew back. It reminded her of Karnwyr and his exploration, but the arachnid seemed so much less hostile, that the woman dared to raise her hand and place it on the flexion of the creature's limb in return. The surface was hard and rough, the callosities on her palm making a subtle scratching sound as she ran her fingers over the husk… The creature didn't mind her touch, taking it rather naturally.

"Keep it down, guys," Adele raised her voice a little, addressing others, and smiled, taking off her hand, almost unwillingly. "She's weary of us, but she's peaceful."

"...Now it's a 'she'?" Neeshka asked incredulously.

"Looks like, to me," Adele shrugged, watching the spider tap the ground with its forelegs. The woman chuckled at that nearly humanoid gesture of nervous contemplation and glanced back again towards her companions, to see if they were enjoying it as much as she was.

"...Oh no," Khelgar grouched. "She's gonna talk to it. Ya'll see, she's gonna go and talk to it. Lass, are ya insane?"

"Hush, you," she grinned, staring again into the multi-facet eyes of the creature towering in front of her, still studying. "Okay, I'm all attention, beautiful."

Another considering tap of sharp forelegs – and then, suddenly and quite vigorously, those legs started moving, scratching something out in the moist earth. Adele blinked, gaping unbelievingly as the lines began forming symbols, symbols that looked vaguely familiar… but only vaguely.

"…Uhm," she tilted her head, trying to look at the marks from different angle, then glanced up at the spider that was now watching her expectantly, pale eerie gleam of magic dancing on the ink-black chitin. Adele found herself wondering how _indeed_ this creature managed to move and operate all her weight, and limbs, and fangs, and… _Damn you, Grobnar, couldn't you shove something useful into my head?_ "Sand?"

"No," was immediate answer from behind.

"You gonna love it."

"Highly doubt that."

Adele shook her head and looked to her side, feeling someone's presence. She wasn't surprised to see that it was Neeshka who trusted her feelings about the spider enough to come closer. She still clutched one of her short-swords, but kept it low, the blade hanging limply along her hip.

"…Wow," the tiefling stared at the writings. "Can see why she didn't want to keep company with others of her kind. They weren't much of a chat, huh?" she frowned. "Is that Elven?"

"Might be. Looks familiar, anyway," Adele answered, though she still looked at the spider more than at her calligraphic doings. The arachnid didn't object Neeshka's presence, waiting patiently for them to get her meaning – or, perhaps, was trying to come up with another way to bring her point to their notice. "Saaaaaand, this spider writes in Elven."

It didn't take long for a sound of slow footsteps to come from behind her back, and Adele stifled a grin when Sand approached, dragging Grobnar in front of him. Not that the gnome minded, his eyes shining with thrill as he was glancing between the spider and the writings. The wizard did the same, though with much more guardedness, but the symbols on the ground soon won his attention fully, and he even eased his hold on the gnome-shield.

"Indeed, these glyphs are close enough to…" he narrowed his eyes at the writings. "How's it possible?"

"She's intelligent, right?" Adele asked, unable to tear her eyes from the creature. "What does it say?"

"Well, if to _pretend_ that this _is_ some mutilated form of Elven, then… she's actually claiming that she is an outcast and has no dealings with other arachnids here. But for a creature of her size and power to be an outcast…"

"…What's wrong with that?"

"It's unlikely others drove her away. Neither had she seized control of the local population..." caught up in his reasoning Sand even dared to look up at the spider. "She _chose_ to be an outcast. An ability to make un-forced un-instinctual decisions… I'd say she is _highly_ intelligent," the arachnid clacked her mandibles, and the look on elf's face instantly changed from scientific awe to pure illness. "But what I wouldn't give for a huge book to crush her flat."

"You just look at those fangs!" Grobnar gushed, glancing up at Sand to see if he shared his excitement. "Hate to see how much venom those could churn out. What do you think, Master Sand? Probably enough to kill a horse, huh?"

"…You are not making it any easier, little bane," the wizard hissed, then sighed helplessly. "Then again, you never do."

Adele winced, dismissing their voices, and rubbed her forehead, peering solely at the spider. "Look, I guess you had your reasons to get out and meet us," she said quietly, "and, I'll be honest, I had my reasons to allow you to." The spider showed no signs of objection, keeping her place firmly and patiently. Adele smiled. "How about we exchange those reasons and be useful to each other?"

Sand cast her a suspicious glance: "What are you doing, if I dare to ask?"

The woman shrugged: "You said yourself she is capable of intelligent decisions. And we need someone who knows a way out of here. So I'm striking a deal."

"Told ya," Khelgar snorted.

"A deal," Sand repeated. "With a spider."

"No, with an intelligent creature who knows a way out of here."

"…and happens to be a spider," the wizard looked at the creature in question, studying her calm and at the same time expectant posture, and back at Adele. "…Peculiar," he muttered, then waved his hand with sudden easiness. "Do carry on, my dear, I'd like to see it."

Adele arched her brow at him doubtfully, but the elf simply stood back, hiding his hands in the sleeves of his robe, watching the forthcoming exchange with his usual cool detached curiosity.

…_Peculiar?_

"Well, beautiful, how are you about taking part in a free show?" she murmured to the spider and nodded at the leading-out tunnels. "You should know your way around. All I ask is the right direction, 'cause I have a wounded companion here and really want to get her out as quickly as possible." At her side Neeshka fidgeted, but Adele waved off her imminent assurances that she wasn't wounded that badly. For all her feigned complaints the tiefling never minded troubles, ready to bite her way through a stone wall if needed. _Guess it's something living on the streets and surviving through them does to you…_ "If you want something in return, name it."

The spider spared a tad of brief acknowledgement to the rest, then gazed back at Adele and – slowly, almost doubtfully – scratched yet another symbol on the ground.

"She's hungry," Sand translated, wrapping his arms around himself a bit tighter, but, to his credit, managed to hold his ground even as nervousness crept back into his voice.

"…Great," Neeshka gave an awkward chuckle, taking a few steps back, leaving only Grobnar and Adele to stand in front of the creature.

"Sweet," the woman grumbled. "And what do giant magical spiders eat? Giant magical flies?"

"Makes sense," Grobnar nodded.

"Have mercy, you two," Sand almost pleaded.

"I'd better have something to give to her," Adele looked back at those keeping behind, hoping for them to suggest something.

Qara and Khelgar met her stare grimly, both of them not thrilled with what was going on for a tiniest bit. Bishop, on the opposite, surveyed the whole scene with a slimy smirk, as if he just came up with an ugly dirty joke and was now cataloging it in his endless stock.

"Don' look at me, lass," the dwarf warned. "Wanna give s'meone to yer beast, I say give the gnome. Or firehead's rat."

"You wish," Qara snorted, but on instinct drew her left shoulder, where Tamin was sitting, a bit back.

"Then you can nobly sacrifice _yourself_ for the good of others," Bishop suggested and winced in disappointment, "Fuck, where's the paladin when you need him."

"Gods, you three are useless," Adele shook her head.

"Wouldn't have said that, were we forced to _fight_ that thing," Qara pointed, tapping her fingers over the staff.

"Aye, that's fer sure," Khelgar grinned.

"Oh!" Grobnar suddenly exclaimed, nearly jumping, and reached for his small, but bottomless backpack. For all Adele knew, he could be carrying live cows in it. "I think I can… where is it? Ah, here!" he finally produced a large box the woman remembered from the werewolves' cave, and without any shade of fear started towards the arachnid. Adele tried to catch him, but failed, though Grobnar turned to face her, proceeding with his back to front, explaining: "I know these insects are small, but they are various and rare, so, perhaps, they will be sort of a dainty. Why not-?"

His words were cut short as he ran into one of the arachnid's limbs, tripping over his own legs and almost falling. Adele tensed, ready to jump into attack if the gnome appeared in danger, but the spider merely dragged her leg closer to her body, studying the tiny creature right in front of her.

"Ha, haven't dropped," Grobnar beamed a triumphant smile that was totally devoid of any self-preservation instinct whatsoever, turning to the spider and holding out his box for her. "I could coo a bit about what delicious morsels we've got here, but I think it'll be insulting for an imposing creature you are."

With that he actually bowed, making the spider sway a little backwards in surprise.

"If that thing goes and bites his head off," came Qara's grave drawl, "I'll be laughing till the end of my days."

'That thing' did not. Instead she finally seemed to come over her amazement towards the gnome and switched her attention to the insects brought to her. Cautiously at first, she soon became quite hearty in having a bite. Adele relaxed, seeing that the gift was taken favourably, and came closer to Grobnar, who was nearly glowing with pride and joy.

"That's what I like about adventuring most of all," he confessed quietly. "You meet so many interesting individuals, and creatures, and species you don't even have to invent stories – every one of your new acquaintances is a story on their own!"

_I just hope she works off _her_ part of the deal…_

It didn't take long for such a giant to get rid of the small box of bugs – but from the way the spider moved her mandibles afterwards, Adele got an impression she was quite satisfied with her snack. Drawing slightly backwards the arachnid found a patch of ground free of her symbols and quickly scratched the last one.

This one Adele actually understood.

"Kistrel," she read and smirked. Though it meant 'friendship' in Elven, Adele had a feeling the spider used it in some other way… almost like introducing herself. "Alright, Kistrel be it," raising her brows a bit, she nodded again towards the tunnels. "Up we go?"

The spider shifted her weight on her long edgy legs and then, without any warning, scurried off by both ground and wall towards one of the corridors, barely missing ill-fortuned Sand. As others didn't follow her at once, baffled by her behaviour or still suspicious of it, the arachnid stopped, looking back.

"Okay, go-go," Adele prodded her companions, and herself strode after the spider, feeling her feet stepping much more lightly – now that the destination was clearer.

"First goblins, now spiders," Qara grouched to her. "You'll start kissing pigs at the next turn the way you go."

…_In some sense, I already ha__ve. _

She swallowed a chuckle at the thought, but didn't answer anything.

"But at least we can be certain we took right direction," Grobnar said, doing his best to fall in steps of his taller companions. "Judging from miss Qara's sour moods, we are close to Duskwood."

Khelgar snorted, "Judgin' from her moods, Duskwood conquered the world."

"I heard that!"

* * *

Though her body language and her face did not betray it, Elanee was restless.

Long before, she used to find approaching night appeasing. In the vast shadowy marshes to which she belonged as strongly as they belonged to her, there was something eternally calming in the slow endlessness of fragrant darkness enveloping trees and hills, climbing the rises and filling the falls, drowning and hushing the ever-present quiet humming of life of the Mere. Though neither nights nor days were tender in Merdelain, their unforgiving harshness was a familiar one.

In Duskwood everything was alien.

As Elanee led the way towards the cave, she found her steps to be unsure, her senses once again being slowly drenched with the already known but nonetheless unpleasant damper. Yes, it was fainter this time – but it was still there.

The land was always demanding just as much as it was generous. Of course, the land in different places was different as well, but its vast dominance was not changing. During her century in the Circle, she had learnt the capricious and dark nature of the Mere, she had learnt to speak to it – but even more important, she had learnt to listen to it in return. And nothing in the world could be compared to the feeling of being accepted, to the understanding that cruel ages-old marshes trusted her to walk them, keep them, sense them… With Duskwood, no matter how hard she tried to reach to the core of the forest, it did not work. The wood stayed impenetrable, unwavering in its closed all-sufficient independence, allowing her to pass, but never welcoming to stay.

She dared not to ask for more.

Even the night here was different. It didn't 'come', stealing its way into the evening or swooping down unexpectedly. No, it simply… appeared, and one only noticed it when already wrapped into darkness, wondering - and unable to remember - when exactly had all the light faded.

It made her feel lost.

"You are worried."

Elanee gave a start and looked back, into the cave they had taken, expecting to stare into the two dark voids of eyes on a pale, nearly translucent face, but saw none. Of course, there was no way the boy could have come up to her unnoticed. With no small relief the druidess saw him actually addressing Shandra, both sitting close to the fire, the boy's hand encased safely in hers. Elanee had to smile at that. There was no way Shandra would have even let go of the child, too, seeing how strongly, almost savagely protective she seemed to become of the boy during their short trip. Protective of the only living being that they managed to save from Ember…

The farmer, who had been ruffling through the embers tensely, taking time to glance around, as if any moment awaiting for an attack or something worse, frowned down at Marcus: "Yeah, I guess… I mean, _of course_ I am. Why?"

"You grip my hand too tightly."

"…Oh," the woman eased her hold, but didn't let go, rubbing his fingers with her own. "Sorry."

Elanee turned away, looking back at the forest, inwardly glad that she was not the one the boy was talking to. And – especially – gazing at. It wasn't an easy thing to bear. Those eyes, dark and infinite, seemed to draw her in, send her falling down the bottomless pit, like the child's body was nothing more than a shaft that connected the physical world with the nothingness beyond.

She was the creature of earth, and that emptiness unsettled her.

"Aren't you?" Shandra spoke up again behind her back, her voice tentative. "Worried?"

"No," he answered simply.

Elanee believed him. Horrible as it was, she did. She would have blamed the shock for his numbness, the shock he lived through upon witnessing an act of destruction so atrocious – as Shandra seemed to – but the druidess remembered that the boy hadn't been much different when they had met him for the first time. Even back then she had been chilled by his demeanor, by his words and most of all by his overwhelming calmness. Only now, coming to believe that the boy was actually a seer, did she realize that, perhaps, in his mind he had already witnessed things much more horrible than Ember.

No wonder his voice, his face, even his movements seemed devoid of any edge. A soul so small and young was opened bare to the powers much greater than it, powers strong enough to crash and erase the barriers between real and not in his mind, to dull his emotions to the point they seemed non-existent - like a tide smoothed the irregularities of the shore it flooded against, dragging the pebbles, plants and even creatures with it back to the ocean in its reflux, leaving nothing but sleek plain coastline behind.

"That means no troubling visions as of late?" Shandra tried her best to make her voice sound light, but wasn't really convincing.

"…They are not exactly visions," Marcus explained. "They are just… things. I look at someone and see. Beyond. It's like looking with another pair of eyes. Used to make me dizzy."

"So, when you look at, say, me-?"

"…Yes," the boy seemed reluctant. "But don't ask what. People usually get angry or upset when I speak about them. Like I invent those things. I don't. I just see."

"I won't be… Or is it that bad?"

Elanee couldn't help it, stealing another glance back, at the pair near the fire. Gleams of flames trembled on their faces, sending their shadows to a frenzied dance over the walls. They looked… surreal.

"I don't know," Marcus confessed, looking up at Shandra, both of them too much engrossed in their exchange to notice Elanee's watching. "It's something about your blood being spilled. To… open something? Or break something? Free something?" he sighed and rubbed his eyes in a weary gesture. "I don't know."

"Well…" Shandra shrugged, encouraging. "It does make some sense, actually."

The boy said nothing, blinking at the fire, too tired or simply unwilling to dwell further in the subject, then with a sigh curled into a ball almost right in Shandra's lap, closing his eyes. The woman froze, caught totally off-guard by that, her hands lingering in the air – before curling protectively around him.

_Like an animal with her cub_, Elanee smiled softly.

"You should get your rest as well," she said, and Shandra glanced up at her abruptly, obviously unaware of the elf's attention. Odd, but that made Elanee feel almost ashamed. Watching and listening had long become her second nature, and sometimes she forgot that it wasn't something looked upon kindly outside the Circle.

"I… guess I should," Shandra agreed quietly, trying to make herself comfortable and at the same time not to disturb the boy. "Just wanted to wait for the others to come back. But, I think, I'll wake up anyway."

Elanee nodded, watching her give one last rake to the embers, then leaning against the wall with Marcus still clutching to her. His face, even relaxed in tired dreamless sleep, stayed just as plain and empty, ageless and lineless. But he was safe with Shandra, of that the druidess was certain. She had a kind heart, this rough around the edges woman. And she clearly found her strength in taking care of others, her own worries forgotten in favour of someone else's needs.

As for Elanee, she had another child to watch out for.

When Shandra's breathing became regular and soft, the druidess turned back towards the forest. She knew she wasn't the only one waiting – she could feel it, the primal restless mind cutting its way through the woods, the wolf's will as sharp and well-aimed as the arrows of the human he was expecting to return.

Elanee closed her eyes, placing her palms on the ground, pressing her feet deeper into the soil, trying to grasp and hold the same unity with the forest around. It did not work, but at least she felt calmed by the sounds of woods, by the still, if a little sour, air… As much as she got used to the people she was (_had to be_) surrounded with, such moments of silence, absence of voices and shouts was something to be enjoyed.

Not for long, though, as she heard footsteps much earlier than the paladin even appeared in her view, carrying an armful of brushwood for the fire. His face was thoughtful, and it did not escape Elanee as he glanced around the hill to find out whether she was the only one present.

She was not the only one to wait, indeed.

"This should be enough for the night," Casavir told her, coming up. Elanee put her finger to her lips and motioned slightly towards the cave with her head.

"Sleeping," she whispered.

His face seemed to soften a little, and he nodded, contented, carefully placing the wood not far from the entrance: "…Good for them. Perhaps, it is best for you to retire as well? It has been a long day."

"No, I can't. If they come back injured, they'll need me."

Casavir nodded again, but all softness was gone from his expression, just like that, with the only notion. "I can't say I liked this dividing of forces from the start," he said as he straightened up, looking deep into the forest, his hands clasping behind his back in a familiar soldier-like stance. Worried, true. Though sometimes Elanee felt his worry was a little different – and a little more targeted – than simple concern for his fellow-fighters. "Though I understand why Adele thought it to be necessary, even if dangerous."

"Her decisions sometimes may not be the wisest ones, but she is persistent enough to make the best out of what she gets as a result," Elanee shrugged. "Besides, it is hard to believe that anything of threat would dare to be so close to that village. They probably found something of interest in those tunnels that takes their time."

"Yet here you are," Casavir noted. "Waiting."

"…Yes," she smiled in defeat, closing her eyes again. "Even though I know she is no longer a child who drops all guard and caution in favour of a bush of dewberry, and capable of handling herself… old habits die hard."

It was the truth. A sad one, Elanee discovered.

No answer came from the paladin, and she looked up – to discover him gazing down at her with a mixture of wonder and confusion in his eyes:

"I did not realize you know her for so long."

Instinctively, her fingers sank deeper into the ground as everything inside of her tucked in instantly. Did she just say that? Did she forget herself so? All this nostalgia, and memories, and tiredness – she gave into it! Forgot that she wasn't here for reminiscing and bonding! Just because her Circle (_if still existed… it hurt, too, to even suggest that_) and the Mere was far away, how could she forswear her duty to them?

She almost heard Vashnee's voice knelling in her ears.

_Serves me right._

"I don't," Elanee answered levelly, fixing her stare at the nearest row of trees, the soil cold against her skin, seeping under her nails… "But the Mere is not as endless as people like to think, and I had my share of meetings with local kids. They all have much in common."

She remembered that, as a paladin, he would be able to tell truth from lies, but remembered too late. But he pressed no further, and she was grateful for that.

"Is this truly your first journey outside the Mere?" he asked instead. "So I heard."

"It is," she was careful, much more careful – now, when it couldn't already change anything. "Before following gythianki, I've never ventured into humans' world."

Casavir nodded, slowly, looking in the distance. Elanee could tell what was there, in the distance he was gazing.

Ember.

"I suppose you don't think high of us after everything you've witnessed," he said finally.

That was not a question – and even if it had been, Elanee wouldn't have found at once what to answer. To tell 'I do' would have been a lie. But then, she _never_ thought high of the world she was now made live in, everything she witnessed simply rooted her opinion. Yet, hearing one man _saying_ it, with grimness and almost guilt, swayed her, if only for a bit.

"Do you always take blame for all the humankind?" the druidess wondered gently.

It was he who didn't answer this time. Not that she expected him to.

"…telling you, we should have taken her with us!" came a female voice from somewhere around the cliff. "She and Grobnar! Just imagine what a show it could be! We'd be rich in an eyewink!"

Another voice, more than familiar, laughing: "Gods, Neesh, you are mean."

"I'm not mean, I'm just spiteful today a little."

"What, the ranger bit you or something?" the girl, Qara.

"Nah, a spider, if you didn't notice. Was bad enough."

What a sight they were. Being dragged through all the Mere's bog wouldn't have left them so dirty. Elanee couldn't miss Neeshka's shoulder, dressed tightly but hastily, just as she couldn't miss cobweb caught in their clothes and hair, not to mention earth and slime…

"What happened to you?" the druidess asked, torn between worry and chuckle.

Neeshka, going side by side with Adele, gave her a broad grin: "You, guys, will _never_ believe what happened!"

Elanee shook her head, not even trying to remember everything they had already been through all together. Casavir, also watching their approach, allowed himself a small smile: "Something tells me we shall."

* * *

It took awhile for all the stories to be told and wounds to be treated. Surely, the tales were solely around the damned well and its content, leaving out Ember - for some reason (not as strange as it may have seemed at first) no one dared to speak of the village or other things involved in Marcus presence. Not that he minded, being only half-awake and falling asleep again rather quickly, ignoring Shandra who took an opportunity to try and feed him her whole stack of rations.

The rest of the evening was spent by dragging apart two dampened and, thus, angry magicians, Elanee nearly scratching out any information about Kistrel with whom she seemed to be more than impressed, and Neeshka teaching the rest some queer gambling game with the use of many small pebbles of different colours. Grobnar appeared to get the best grasp of it and won almost all of the sets – and even when loosing he left a distinct impression that it was done on purpose not to upset anybody. Khelgar's damaged leg started hurting again after the whole day of moving, so he was made to gulp down several healing potions, being quite unsuccessful in grumbling that they tasted like slops. He calmed down a bit after was given a flask of whiskey from Bishop's stock – since the ranger was out to fetch his wolf and, therefore, saw none of the liberties taken with his supplies.

The first watch was given to Neeshka and Grobnar, because the tiefling was adamant in her wish to win her own game. In light of that even Casavir agreed to take rest. Adele couldn't help but be glad that the paladin seemed to grow more and more resigned to the fact that he, too, could have a full night's rest without guarding everyone's sleep. Khelgar was also still awake, taking out his grindstone and diving into a clearly enjoyable process of sharpening his axe – and every other piece of weapon the rest of the company handed to him, since he took so much pleasure in the work.

…"You tiny damned cheat, how are you doing it?" Neeshka shook her head stubbornly, facing yet another defeat. Her tail trashed in irritation, pretty close to tying itself into knots.

"I really-really don't know," Grobnar smiled guiltily. "Honestly, miss Neeshka, it just doesn't seem to work any other way!"

"Oh, I'll bring you out into the open, you just wait and see," she hissed, putting the stones back into the small pouch and shaking it to shuffle. Elanee's treatment did her good, not healing the wound entirely at once, but at least returning Neeshka's arm its flexibility.

Adele stretched her chilled feet closer to the fire, curling her toes inside the still wet boots, and cradled her chin in the palms, watching the players:

"…I wonder, if I keep looking for another hour, will I finally get how it's supposed to be played?"

"What's to get? Look, you pour them out and-"

"No-no, don't go into that explanation of yours again, it just makes everything worse."

"That's right, lassie," Khelgar nodded, testing the edge of one of Neeshka's blades. "'Tis better to learn by yerself, on yer own mistakes."

"Right," Neeshka snorted, without looking at him, then threw out her hand and gave a hearty tug to his beard before the dwarf could get her intentions. "There goes your mistake-education, Stumpy. Nu-uh-thing."

"Ya'r askin' fer it, fiendlin'," Khelgar pointed the sword he'd been sharpening at her. "One more time, an' I'll remove yer horns together with that loaf ya wear for yer head!"

"You know, it always amazed me, how sensitive dwarves are about their beards," Grobnar put in. "Like in that story of a dwarven king and a red dragon who put it on fire while-"

"There's _no_ such story, gnome," Khelgar growled.

"Yeah, Grobnar, there _can't_ be," Neeshka added in mock terror. "All dwarven kings had sacred indestructible beards!"

"Fiendlin'…"

"Oh well, perhaps," the gnome grinned peacefully. "It must have been some other story, quite possible."

"Why do you never tell all these stories?" Adele wondered. "You only start, but never actually get to them."

"Oh, you see, miss Adele, the thing is that I _really_ mean to! But when the inspiration strikes, and all those thoughts come rushing in, tumbling in my head at once, words ringing in my ears… whew, makes me dizzy sometimes," he waved his hands. "And sometimes one thought just chases off the others. It's like today, with this absolutely _marvelous_ creature down in the caves… it reminded me of that blade-golem, remember? The one we encountered in the lair of those very unpleasant githyanki. Even though it was damaged and potentially deadly, I think I might have been able to get it serviceable again. And seeing how helpful Kistrel turned out to be, just think about what that construct would be capable of!"

"…It's really not one and the same, Grobnar."

"Why?"

"'Cause she can't talk to a golem," Khelgar snorted.

"For example, yeah," Adele nodded. "What, is it wrong that I prefer dealing with those to whom I can explain at least something somehow?" glancing back at Grobnar, she frowned. "Come now, do you really think tinkering with that thing would have been wise?"

"'Wise'?" the gnome sniffed, waving her off. "What does 'wise' have to do with it, miss Adele? Was it wise of me to test my mithral-chain diving-suit, when I nearly drowned? Or was it wise when I drank molten lead to try and discover a formula for lead-skin spell? I think not!" he raised a finger pointedly. "But in each case I've learned valuable lessons which helped me to this day!" he fell silent, staring thoughtfully into space, then winced dismissively. "Well, whatever they were…"

"How comes he's still alive?" Neeshka muttered.

"Nah, he's a fighter," Khelgar grinned. "In his own way, o' course, but still…"

Adele and Neeshka exchanged meaningful glances.

"I heard it too, did you?" Adele wondered.

"Yeah. Stumpy's getting wiser and more open-minded with every day. So monky."

"Wha-? I'll show ya monkey, you tailed-"

"Not 'monkey', but… oh, nevermind."

"…You know, miss Neeshka," Grobnar cut in, "better toss around those stones again, I'll try to explain how I win all the time."

Adele smirked, sinking her head into her hands again: "He's just lucky like Gods-know-what."

Neeshka gave a doomed sigh, shaking the pouch. "Tymora, help me."

"Lass," Khelgar frowned at Adele holding her chin in her palm. "Don't ya think ya should snatch a nap, eh?"

The woman shook her head, "Nope, I'm fine, I need little sleep," _and even less bad dreams… much less than I'll probably get… _She rubbed her face and looked around the cave, having to admit that her sleeping companions looked like they were really enjoying themselves. "Where the Hells is Bishop? Got into a pitfall or what?"

Neeshka spared her a knowing glance, and Adele, getting her full of the tiefling's looks, stared right back at her: "What?"

"Nothing," the rogue gave her the oiliest smile. "You kinda like him, don't you?"

"…Whom?"

Neeshka rolled her eyes, "Why, Stumpy of course. Long before noticed this roaring chemistry between you two. Men are hot when they are fat and furry, aren't they."

"Hey!" Khelgar bellowed.

"What, you _want_ Del to like you?"

The dwarf cast his eyes between her and Adele, who found it extremely hard to keep an incredulous face while trying not to snicker, then raised his hands at the latter:

"Don't get me wrong, lass, were ya twice shorter, twice broader and sport a nice beard, I'd be all over ya in a heartbeat, but-"

"Gee, thanks for a sweet image," Neeshka cut him off, turning back to Adele. "And _you_ don't pretend that-"

"Neesh, I'll save your time and breath - the day I start liking a foul-mouthed murderous alcoholic, I'm done with."

"Aw," the tiefling smiled again. "Heard that, Stumpy? She's done with."

Much to Adele's bewilderment, Khelgar answered with a broad toothy grin that showed no signs of disagreement:

"Aye, but lad surely needs some crap beaten out of him first. Might turn out to be somethin' decent, who knows."

"And whom are we talking about exactly?" Grobnar asked, but before Neeshka could answer (and was really looking forward to it), Adele got to her feet:

"_Fine_, you won, I wash and then _am_ going to sleep… Gods, sometimes I hate you, guys."

"Oh, you know how they say that there's only one step from love to hatred…" Neeshka slurred, "…and baaack."

"Screw you."

"Me? You sure?"

Grinning, Adele circled the fire and went out into the cold night, wrapping her arms around herself. It was obviously worth spending some time outside, to let the whole conversation die and not be revived. Amusing as it was, Neeshka deciding to play a pimp for her and the ranger of all people was the last thing Adele wanted and needed.

At least, for now.

As for 'then'… well, she surely could use someone to stretch some tension out of her spine. Though it'd better be someone she didn't dream of gagging with dirty feet-wraps.

_And someone not of the band. Don't shit where you eat and all…_

Stepping down from the cave towards the spring, the woman splashed her burning face with freezing water, shivered, but steeled herself and threw a handful of icy moisture on her neck and hair, letting it loose.

_Yes, that's where thoughts of a hot bath come back…_

Giving her scalp a moment of rest, Adele rubbed the back of her head and tied her unruly white-and-black mop back into a high tight tail, then drew a lungful of sourish-sweet air of Duskwood that left her mind reel a bit. Blinking at the darkness, she smiled. The night was quiet and fragrant, not to be spoiled by darkvision or anything.

_Damn, I do like it in here._

Turning away from the brook, Adele took a step back towards the cave – but froze dead in her tracks when her path was crossed by a large grey shadow. Only when it stopped, gazing at her suspiciously, did she recognize Karnwyr and blew a relieved sigh:

"You two take it after each other to scare crap out of me, huh? I'm not even armed, mind you." The wolf didn't react, still frowning up at her, and Adele shrugged: "Which, I guess, is totally my problem, you are right."

Karnwyr cocked his head to the side in a totally familiar gesture, measuring her up and down, and the woman couldn't fight back a grin – it seemed that sneaking up at her wasn't the only habit the wolf and his human companion took from each other.

"By the way, your master is out there in the cold creepy night looking for you at this very moment," she said, still grinning. Karnwyr blinked indifferently. "Good to know you don't care."

_And it's hardly __your fault that your master is an ass._

"Hey, you know, I think I've got something for you," she crouched in front of him, reaching for her belt-pouch. Karnwyr didn't back off, but his body tensed, yellow eyes narrowed, following her every move. Ignoring the coldness of silver shards that slid over the back of her palm, Adele raked through the small bag and finally found what was left of a beef-roll given to her by ever-caring Duncan. Taking it out, the woman unwrapped waxed paper, holding the meat out to the wolf. He eyed her all over sullenly and moved his nose just a tad. "Yes, it _is_ for you."

Karnwyr glanced briefly at her face, then from side to side, as if afraid someone would witness his failing, and quickly snatched the roll with his teeth, dragging it off her palm and swallowing down. Adele watched him, crossing her arms on her knees:

"So, what say you? Peace?" Karnwyr looked at her hands, then back at her face expectantly, and she had to shrug again. "Nope, honey, that's all. Morsels are eaten by small bites, otherwise they lose their charm and become _food_."

He didn't move, still gazing at her, and Adele, unable to hold back another grin, lifted her hand, placing it on the wolf's forehead to give him a test scratch. But before her fingers could even touch his fur properly, Karnwyr jerked away, tossing his head up, and the next thing Adele knew were his jaws snapping shut around her arm just below the elbow. She froze, staring at him wide-eyed, a startled scream jumping up her throat, but she managed to clench her teeth to stop it, collecting all her willpower not to shrink back and give the damned animal an excuse to tear her to pieces. Karnwyr didn't bite hard enough to cut through her jerkin – of which she was already glad – but she had a sick feeling that an attempt to free her arm from the trap of his jaws would most likely end in the bone being broken in two.

So she kept still, not taking her eyes from Karnwyr's golden orbs that went on staring at her. Somehow, but Adele even squeezed out a smile, faint, crooked and clearly unhealthy-looking, but it was all she was capable of, with her palm and wrist growing numb from pain:

"…Hey, calm down, boy… Startled you, didn't I?" she murmured softly, her throat tightening from effort of keeping down the whine. Seeing that she didn't intend on going on with her harassment, the wolf finally let her go, taking a few steps back to leave enough space between them, then skirted to the side, keeping the woman in his sight, and Adele jumped to her feet, her voice turning to a snarl: "You little… no, you _big_ son of a… wolfish bitch!"

Undoing her jerkin, she shrugged it off hastily and tried to roll up the sleeve of her tunic, uttering a hiss when the fabric brushed against the burning red marks left swelling on her skin. Diving back into her pouch, she took out a can of Sand's ointment given to her long time ago and spent a couple of mortifying moments trying to open it with one hand, silently cursing thousands of hot fishhooks that seemed to get stuck in the very core of her damaged arm and did their best to tear themselves free at every move. The grease itself was a relief, cool against her pulsing aching skin, and Adele rubbed it generously right into the broken circle of teeth-marks.

_So who's a one-handed jerk now? _

_Oh, Neesh is going to have hiccup from laughing._

"Happy now?" she growled at Karnwyr, who watched the whole process with almost speculating eye. As if the damned mutt was exploring results of some test he had run on her. Using her teeth to tighten the bandage around her arm, Adele spat out its end and glared at the wolf: "Do you always bite the hand that feeds you? Even a giant glowing spider is smarter than that!"

Karnwyr glanced up from her wound to her face, nonchalant, studying, and Adele barely held herself from planting a boot into his furry side. Partly because she didn't want her leg to suffer the same abuse as her arm had.

"Well, the Hells with you too, then," she stood up, crossing her arms on her chest (the bitten right one like a red-hot iron rod falling on the undamaged skin of the left), and sneered at the wolf. "I like _cats _anyway."

Karnwyr moved his ears, silently and eloquently making her realize he didn't give a damn.

_Okay, neither do I, then._

Adjusting the bandage one last time, she picked up her jerkin and shoved the wounded arm into the sleeve as swiftly as possible. It didn't save her from flash of pain, but at least she was through with it quicker. Putting the jerkin on completely, she straightened the sleeve, smoothing it over dressing, and tucked in loose ends of the bandage, until no clues of her wound were left.

Otherwise, she knew, she wouldn't live it through from Bishop alone.

"Out of my way," she growled at Karnwyr blocking the path towards the cave. The wolf, giving her another pondering look, without any objections loped to the side.

…_Maybe I was wrong, maybe ther__e _is_ a reason two bastards get along so well,_ Adele thought gloomily, watching his departure as he trotted away through the rustling grass, towards a couple of old flat stubs grown with moss…

…one of which was actually occupied.

His bow and quiver were on the ground, the arrows spilled out, and the ranger was picking out those undamaged, while the splinted and broken ones got deprived of their heads and feathering, all of that piled separately. It didn't prevent him from sparing Adele one amused glance, however, as well as giving his wolf an absent-minded scratch behind an ear when the animal got to his side.

Slowly, Adele folded her arms again, straightening up and arching her brow silently. If she was going to get a load of crap on her head, she might as well get right to it and save both their time. Bishop threw her another fleeting look, eyes glinting with laughter, and shook his head, not stopping his work.

"Haven't noticed you here," Adele sipped out coldly.

"Small wonder," he noted, studying one of the prepared long slivers of wood, and smirked, "for a woman who had a piece of sword in her ribs for her whole life and never noticed _that_."

She narrowed her eyes: "Bet you thought that one out long time ago and was dying for a possibility to say it, huh."

Corners of his mouth twitched, almost turning his smirk into an actual smile: "Got me."

Karnwyr sank on the grass at his master's feet, scratching himself lazily with his hindleg, while Bishop calmly went on with scraping the future shaft of an arrow with his newly-returned knife. Adele regarded both of them coolly for several moments, and, seeing that she was not going to get anything even remotely sounding like an apology or explanation, deliberately cleared her throat.

"What? Expecting me to tell you I warned you?" Bishop wondered without looking at her. It occurred to her that he was avoiding her gaze simply not to fall over with laughter. "Don't worry, I won't."

"You are a real sweetie," Adele deadpanned.

"Ain't I indeed," he muttered with a quiet snort. "Must be something in the air."

"So why are you out here, exactly, and not inside?"

"Why, worried?" another amused glance.

"Prefer to have all of you in my sight."

"Ah, yeah, the _leader_ thing," he smirked, fastening an arrow-point on the shaft. "Just waiting for the demon and the gnome to pass out. Double portion of crushing cheerfulness is more than I can handle."

Her eyes followed the blade of his skinning knife as it slid along yet another sliver, slicing off the tiniest of hitches and snags.

…_Really? Or is it the boy you are so thoroughly avoiding?_

"What's so special about this knife of yours, anyway?"

Bishop looked up at her for a moment, for a moment too short for her to read his expression. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," she sniffed. "Then what was all the tantrum 'my preciousss ssstolen' about?"

He actually stopped his cutting for a second, looking down at Karnwyr at his feet: "See, boy? Told you it doesn't matter she is a fool – she makes it up with being funny."

"…Are you purposefully pissing me off?"

This time there was no mistaking annoyance in his expression. "_Me _pissing _you_ off?"

"I simply asked a question."

"I answered it. And done so several times before, I believe. Just a knife. Mine. Had it for ages, so got used to it," casting an appraising gaze over Adele, he smirked again. "From the look and condition of your armour, I'd think you know much about getting used to old things and not wanting to change it for something better."

Arguing that was pointless. Besides, the knife with it's worn down handle and a blade that had obviously lived through hundreds of sharpenings _did_ look old.

"Your childhood present, then?"

"Almost," he agreed with sudden glee. "A present I made for myself."

She tilted her head, studying him, feeling an unwanted grin coming to her lips: "You stole it."

"Nope. I _tried_. Got caught. Didn't care much for the guy to whom it belonged, but wanted the knife badly, so made a run for it," the ranger glanced into the distance, his lips curving in a strange smirk, "after stabbed him in the leg."

…_So it _is_ about Marcus…_ - Adele felt a slight shiver crawling up her spine, remembering those were the words the boy had told him in Ember. - _…Damn, can't really blame you for trying your best to keep away from him._

"And that man? He simply allowed you to go?"

Bishop grinned: "Come on, who would have? But even though he was a tracker, it took him three days to find me in the wilds. So he let me keep it. And decided I was worth an effort in teaching," he shrugged. "So I prefer thinking I didn't steal this knife, but pretty damn earned it."

Adele said nothing, watching his face, striped with scars that appeared to be more and more the longer one looked. Perhaps, some part of him never changed since then. Still the same small stubborn boy running all alone through the woods from the follower, not giving a damn about anything but to keep what little he had…

"…I'm sorry," she muttered.

Bishop fixed her with an impassive studying look: "For what?"

She wanted to answer, but did not. After all, what _was_ there to feel sorry for? His life of hardships? But he survived. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. If that was true, then, perhaps, in some ways he was much stronger than she was.

Was that an excuse enough? For his attitude, his disdain towards those weaker? Those who regretted something? Valued something?

And why in the Hells did it matter to her to find an excuse for him at all?

"…We've got a long day tomorrow, so you'd better get some sleep," she murmured finally. "You look like shit."

Another smirk, as dry and impassible as his usual snide tone: "You are not exactly a cherry-tree in bloom yourself, princess."

She shook her head and sighed, turning away from him to start for the cave: "Sometimes can't help but wish people were less honest."

"Yeah," he said to her back. "And that's why you are a fool."

It was the best time to leave, without answer or even acknowledgement, but Adele discovered herself unable to. Instead she turned back, staring at him going back to his work, as if for him she had already left, then gazed at his bow leaned against the stub he was sitting on.

"…May I?"

He looked between her and the weapon – and Adele realized in what a stupid position she got herself just a second before he stared at her arm. Funny how she had forgotten of the pain still throbbing faintly over and under her skin. But it was too late to back off, so when he stared up at her face she met his gaze calmly, arching her brow in silent question. He didn't say anything, if not for a familiar 'not-really-smiling' look – as he was, probably, already savouring her imminent defeat – but picked up his half-full quiver and tossed it to her. Adele caught it, hanging on her shoulder, bent down and took the bow, checking the string.

Perfect balance, faultlessly tight stretch…

Quite out of the blue she thought she actually missed Daeghun.

Taking out an arrow, she nocked it with a long-ago trained movement and drew the string, ignoring her arm screeching in protest, focusing instead on a pleasant creak of wood as the bow cambered in her hands. It had been a while, her last encounter with a weapon was in the Sword Mountains, with that pathetic orcish excuse for a bow, and her fingers had long become estranged from the truly taut string that now cut into them.

Still, it felt nice.

Without easing her hold, she skimmed over the silvery darkness of Duskwood, looking for a mark. It took several moments, but soon a shade of some nightbird flashed to her right, and Adele opened her fingers, letting the arrow go.

A whizz, wet crunch, abrupt squeak, and a rustle of feathers falling down from the body pinned to the tree…

In her mind, Adele winced in disappointment, glancing at the arrow that hit the bird in the chest, not the head she aimed at.

Bishop gave a half-hearted approving hum, getting to his feet and coming up to her, also staring at the mark: "Not bad. For a cripple."

"Meh," Adele shrugged. "Been better. Need more practice."

"...Right."

The ranger drew another arrow out from the quiver on her shoulder, standing behind her back, and lifted up the bow she kept holding. Closing his hands over her own, not paying attention (or not diving a damn) to her flinch as his hold pushed her fingers tighter into the bow, he turned the weapon to a more horizontal position and bumped his cheek against her temple, making her cock her head to the side to match the tilt of the bow. She obeyed, but more on instinct than purposefully, because all of a sudden became too much aware that her body was leaned against another _body_, warm steely flesh encased in leather, another chest also moving in breathing, pressing against her back, the slightest of gestures sending another hand slide over hers…

"Don't sleep, princess," Bishop whispered to her ear, aiming the arrow at the dead bird. "Practice."

The strength of the pull sent the string ringing as he let go of it, the arrow swishing through the night, hitting precisely into the spot the previous one got, splitting the shaft in two and driving the remaining metal head wholly into the trunk.

Adele blinked.

"…Neat," she croaked in surprise, but came over it, teasing. "For a showing-off ass."

He chuckled, thawing her insides to a purring gurgling pool: "Don't envy - practice."

"Well, I hit it in the first place, didn't I?" she moved her shoulder in a shrug. "So if it comes to that, I'll manage."

"No, you won't," his tone changed, half-mocking, half-threatening. "Because in _your_ desire to show-off you easily allowed someone to get at your back. So lesson screwed, princess."

She didn't move, still staring straight ahead, and smiled: "It wasn't someone. It was you," turning her head slightly, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "And trust me, I _knew_ it." Not giving him time to answer, Adele looked back at the tree and the bird. "So as I said, I'll manage."

"…Oh well, maybe," he admitted condescendingly. "But right now that in no small part depends on how much had the Luskans put on your head."

She frowned, any mirth draining from her mood. "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?" she drawled coldly.

"I might agree for ten."

"…Huh?"

"Ten thousand. For Torio Claven," the same everyday tone, uncaring, as if speaking of weather. "If you scrape up that much, of course."

The tree was still there, and she still gaped at it, but no longer saw.

"I thought you were a ranger… a smuggler at worst, not an assassin for hire."

He snorted: "For ten thousand I have no problems of becoming one," she didn't want turning and looking at him that very moment, didn't want at all, so kept peering furiously into the distance. "Come now, princess, I saw your face at Ember. Somehow I doubt that death of that Luskan bitch is going to upset you."

"It won't," she agreed calmly, without even giving thought to it – what use could be in denying the obvious? "But it's not like she was the one to kill those people. She wasn't even the one to come up with the plan, I'm sure. She's just a pretty face and a glib tongue Garius is using as a screen. His tool. His slut, perhaps. But hardly any more than that."

"What, she didn't deserve death?" Bishop mocked.

"…She didn't deserve ten thousand to be spent on her," it was weird and scary to even discuss such things, but at the same time… relieving. Adele smiled. "Besides, if only you saw her… Trust me, for a woman like that, public humiliation from losing the trial would be much more horrible than death."

"But you need to _win_ the trial for that."

"…Thanks for having faith in me."

"It's not me who is an expert in blind faith here."

"Sand is going to make it. If not for me, then for himself. He's got too much pride to lose it."

The ranger was silent, but Adele could feel his intent stare at the back of her head.

"Even if," he drawled at last, "you'll somehow get to win this blasted trial, do you really think that the Arcane Brotherhood or even Garius alone is going to simply let you slide? You are already marked and pretty damn surely will be having assassins stalking you till the end of your days."

She shrugged: "Then I'll be killing them. Killing until they get that it's better not to stalk me."

"Cocky again, hmm?"

"Githyanki got the point. Luskans can't be denser than them."

"Oh, you know them so well, don't you."

Adele shut her eyes. She knew she was speaking all of it out for the sake of convincing herself one more time – and right now Bishop's everlasting cynical attitude wasn't helping.

It's like she was arguing with herself.

"Gods, _you_ know them so well, don't you," she grouched.

He snorted behind her back: "Of course I don't. Why would a Luskan know Luskans?"

She did turn around this time. Slowly, looking up at him and meeting the return stare, cold, unblinking, examining…

He was waiting for her reaction…

Fear, blame, indignation…

_Luskan…?_

"…You… served them?"

His face hardened, corner of his mouth twitching in something between a smirk and a grimace: "A tavern wench _serves_, princess. I _worked_ for them, yes. Wasn't amongst my favourite works, if it makes you feel better."

"…And what did you do?"

That drew out a chuckle, "Really, princess. Your guess?"

She tried to banish the memory of villagers in Ember, methodically and regularly razed out…

_No, he…_

Tried, but could not.

…_no__?_

Just like she could not bring herself to feel scared. Simply could not. In the back of her mind she knew that this was exactly the moment she should be screaming and running away in terror. But she had no wish to.

Perhaps because even deeper, somewhere at the bottom of her self she had known for some time already… Known that there was only one type of hunter that could be so _used_ to death of beings just like himself, indifferent to the point he found it funny… A hunter for humans. Assassin.

She had known indeed. And at that very bottom she had already been fine with it.

"So what happened?" she asked, allowing herself a small smile. "You got expelled for bad behaviour?"

Surprise flit through amber iris, almost respectful, and he smiled in return fleetingly, shaking his head: "The reward system appeared to be a pile of crap. You work well – you get paid well, but at the same time your tasks become more and more tough, and you don't have any say in it. One day I had enough of them. So I left."

"…You can simply _leave_ Luskan service?"

A mistake.

His eyes narrowed, flashed with something close to suspicion – for a second, and then Bishop tilted his head in a long-familiar taunt, giving her a just as familiar wry smirk:

"Yeah, you can," derisive notes were back in his voice. "If you know the ways. But you don't need to know every twist and turn of this story, princess. Sensitive as you are, you might lose your sleep completely," he stooped a bit forward to her, lowering his voice. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Adele smiled again, catching herself on a wish to hood her eyes, lower her lashes…

"I'm tougher than I look."

"Oh yeah, I noticed. Hugging giant spiders, shoving her arms in wolves' jaws…" he sneered. "You can believe in your immortality all you want – right until the noose tightens around your neck."

She wasn't able to stop a short laugh: "Please, lovely… For as long as I remember myself, I used to wake up in the middle of the night, my gown stained with blood I coughed out in my sleep. Trust me, I _never_ believed in my immortality. So I prefer winning this crap if you don't mind."

"And if you won't?"

"Well…" she sighed and spread her hands. "Then I'll die, whatcha gonna do? What's this about, anyway? You want me to break down and cry on your shoulder?"

Bishop winced: "Hells spare me, you've got paladin for that. I just know you have your kinks – but I never thought you want to die so stupidly, on some fucking gallows in the market-square with a mob of gawkers staring at your last twitchings."

"I don't want to die at all, stupidly or not," she cut off. "I want to clear my name. I want to be proclaimed innocent on the whole damned kingdom. So that never again not a single blasted soul would even _dare_ to think me capable of something like that. I don't mind answering for what I did. But for what I _did_."

"That would make paladin tear in pride," the ranger snorted. "Why the Hells do you care what others think of you?"

"I don't care what _others_ think of me, I care what _I_ think of me. And those people were killed because of _me_."

"Nah, don't flatter them. They were killed 'cause they were a mindless helpless cattle. And there's only one way for the cattle – to the slaughter. Now or later, doesn't matter."

"Even if so. It was _me_ who got accused. So _I_'ll be the one to end this shit."

He suddenly chuckled: "So we have a virtuous egoist here? Now that's something fresh."

Adele fell silent, looking coldly at him and refusing to admit that his words had struck something in her. But he seemed to get that his arrow hit the mark anyway, as his eyes glittered with held-back laughter.

"Touché," he concluded.

She jerked her head up: "At least as sure as Hells I don't care what _you_ think, ranger."

"Oh, I'm not expecting you to. My job is to tell, your job is to ignore," Bishop leaned a bit more forward, holding her gaze. "Just like those dead fools strewn all around Ember did."

"They didn't have a choice. Neither do I."

"Until no one chopped off your legs and arms, there's always a choice. And if you _truly_ didn't care what anyone would think, you would have followed my advice and simply disappeared."

"Uh-huh," she snorted. "To give Luskan and Neverwinter a chance to compete in who's going to put a bigger bounty on my head or get me first? Don't think they-" Adele trailed off, seeing a meaningful smirk snake over his lips as he was watching her, and arched her brow questioningly.

His smirk widened. "So, you _were_ thinking over my offer to hit the road, hmm, oh brave little squire?"

She felt a momentarily emptiness inside, as if he tripped her, and now she was balancing between keeping her ground and falling...

"I'd be a fool not to," she said slowly, trying to grasp any mean to change the subject, and somehow even found strength to smile. "But, actually, what I _did_ think was that those words of yours were just another ass comment. Now appears it was an offer?"

"...Don't know," he took a step towards her, bringing his face closer, his voice dropping, its insinuating hoarseness much more discernable - not just by ear, but physically, as if her skin was brushed by a piece of rough yet soft fabric, brushed lightly, almost not touching... "And if it _was_?"

_How__'s he doing it all to his voice?_

Adele pursed her lips, ignoring how dry they became, suppressing a need to lick them...

She could not. Not when his eyes were devouring her smallest mistakes, searching for her tiniest weakness... like a hunter that set his traps, tied his snares, and waited patiently for his victim to misstep and get into one of them.

"...Well..." Adele drawled, "Considering your... generous selfless nature - I'm afraid my agreement would have cost me too much."

"Not much more than saving your... soft... warm... sweet... hide back at Solace Glade," he murmured, cocking his head, and Adele had to wonder when exactly she had missed the moment he came this close to her. Close enough for her to feel his breath as he added: "But I'm ready to negotiate."

"Everything you do has a price, huh?" her voice also dropped to whisper, quiet, barely audible, as if melted in the warmth that filled her veins.

"True," his hooded eyes travelled lower, locking on her lips. "After all, there _should_ be a reward for saving the princess."

She wasn't able to hold back a chuckle - a treacherous chuckle, _wrong_ chuckle, too thick, too throaty, too _feminine_... "Well now, aren't you Prince Charming..."

He laughed, a quiet but deep sound from the very centre of his chest, "So what'll be, then, princess? Half of the kingdom?" she felt his hand sliding up her throat, his thumb flickering over the underside of her jaw. She felt how rough his fingers were, calloused by many years of firing a bow, by many strings and featherings… Just as well she felt how _obediently_ a vein on her neck started pulsing under his touch. "Half of a swamp?"

Some part of her, that was still clutching his bow in her hand, was itching to shove the weapon into his guts or at least slap him hard enough for an echo to ring through the whole Duskwood. But there was another part, that stood back and only wondered if the bastard indeed tasted as good as she remembered…

"Bishop," she finally managed. "You might really want to try a different approach. Since this one clearly not working."

"Of course it doesn't," he smirked, tilting her chin up with his fingers. "That's why you are not leaving, but standing here wondering if that son of a bitch is going to kiss you already."

She mirrored his smirk, bringing her hips just a tad forward, inclining her head a little to the side, enough for her hair to brush his palm. "…Is he?"

His hand slowly slipped down her neck, almost turning away her collar, then along her shoulder – until he hooked up the strap of his quiver hanging there and pulled it off, throwing it on his own shoulder.

"Go to sleep, princess," he said with the same unfaltering smirk. "We've got a long day tomorrow indeed. I need my sleep and in no mood of doing you here in the grass."

"…Now _that's_ a tear-jerker," she scoffed, taking a step back, even though her legs seemed to be made of jelly. "Think I'm gonna cry."

"Please, don't. Otherwise the paladin will cut my guts out, then build a fence around you, on which the druidess will build a greenhouse for her fragile flower."

"Will it be close enough for me to see your cut out guts?"

"Don't know, ask them."

With a slow shake of her head she stepped back completely. "You know, lovely, you should thank the gods you are at least handsome. Otherwise you would've been a multiversal disaster."

He nodded, the unmistakable mocking sparkle to his eyes: "You aren't hopeless either."

Adele didn't answer, twirling on her threaded-down heels, and strode towards the cave before her lips curved in an unbidden smile. Biting down treacherous lips, she finally banished it.

_I__ don't like him… I _can't_ like him! It's just his smell, his damned smell does something to my… what are they called? …receptors – and that's it. Yeah__, __probably__. __Need to ask Sand, he should know…_

_Or is it just so bloody annoying,_ - her inner voice added, the voice of that cold-blooded calculating part of her that won every battle and was ready to squeal in delighted agreement at every – _every single one_ – of the ranger's words, - _that you've met a man whom you can't see through? A man who appeared to be more than a match for you? A man who makes _you_ feel weak?_

…_It's scary to think that my match can be only a man like _that_…_

"By the way," Bishop added into her back, "picking up arrows after you is only going to enlarge your debt."

Without turning, Adele threw up a middle finger.

In the darkness behind her back the ranger smirked. Or not. Hells knew him.


	28. XXVIII: Change of Hearts

_A/N: __Man, I should really kick my lazy ass back into shape and update more regularly :/ It's hard to take a grip of the language after the break, so there might be more mistakes here than usual:)  
_

_On the good side: got my own account on DeviantART all up and running. So if you are curious of how exactly Del looks like, take a peek through the 'Homepage' link in my profile – there's plenty of the girl in my gallery. And not only her ;)_

_Another dialogue-heavy chappie. I luv dialogues:) And I luv Adele's high bluff skill ;)_

* * *

**XXVIII**: Change of Hearts

Adele did not expect to find Port Llast in ruins, of course, nor suddenly grown to a huge fortress or rich gold-strewn megalopolis. But glancing up and down tiny knobby fish-smelling streets, she realized she did not expect to see it so _the same_ as well. Wind-bitten houses, chipped bricks with whitish scab of salt, puddles gathered in the chuckholes – even the brooding shade of dusk looked just like the semidarkness of early morning they had arrived here the previous time.

Three days, so thoroughly eventful for their band, slipped by totally unnoticed by the small town. Adele found it almost insulting.

Most of the citizens had already left for their homes, but the rare patrolling soldiers were there, and quite enough to bring up the risk of attracting attention. Even on a crowded street a bunch of dirty travellers bristling with weapons was a speck in the eye, not to mention the welcome they had got in Port Llast before. But those sensible assumptions did nothing to quell the disappointment when on the border of the forest Adele felt a slight touch to her elbow from Sand, followed by a meaningful circling gesture around the head inviting her to ruffle through her backpack in search of her much-resented hat. A weird crazy thought, but she found herself willing to just march and parade herself through Port Llast undisguised, seeing if anyone _dared to_…

_Here I am, bashing up wolves, dryads, spiders, Luskans, dark priests, but had to tuck my tail under a hat 'cause of a bunch of guards…_- adjusting the hat, Adele scratched her skin under the brims. Already itching. Even her body seemed to reject the damned thing. - _…Surely doesn't take much to rile me today._

Not that it was surprising, with a tired haze her strained mind was floating in. Sleep hadn't come easily last night. To be more accurate, hadn't come at all, because those short snatches of oblivion that had come over her at times surely could not qualify as sleep – especially since they left her even more hollow and annoyed than their absence. The moment she was falling into a dream the coldness of the cave around started to seem too much like freezing soil reeking of soot and rot, so much she was afraid that it would take the barest of movements – and her limbs would no doubt bump into burnt flesh of peasants' corpses around…

Her consciousness wasn't that masochistic, jumping out of the dream the same instant, leaving her staring blankly into the darkness, wondering if it was possible to kill the dead again, simply to make them stop bothering her.

Though, as she remembered now with a humourless smile, in some of those not-really-dreams she _had_ asked Bishop how much he would take for killing the dead. Could not recall his answer, though. Wasn't sure he answered at all, since she ended up occupying his mouth long before he could…

_Now that's really not the thing worth __reminding yourself of…_

Regret had a sour taste, like a tiny bead of mustard stuck between teeth, too deep for saliva to wash it out. Adele still couldn't figure what kind of a vile imp had been sitting on her left shoulder and tugging at her tongue the last night, but she had a whole day to curse him for that. It weren't even the said words that bothered her, but the fact it was _Bishop_ to whom she went and piled out her insides to. Somehow him being for once sincere – from the totally childish joy when he was speaking of his knife, to that deadpan declaration of his ties with Luskan - didn't help in the slightest. It seemed to bring a sort of understanding, if not intimacy, between them. Far stronger – and far worse – than that of friends or even lovers.

Intimacy of accomplices.

_Might have as well put a leash on __my neck and handed him the end of the rope. _

He didn't bring it up. Of course. And if it wasn't for the knowing smirk during her training spar with Shandra, when he was the only one noticing that all her dodges and stances had been aimed at keeping her chewed arm off reach, Adele would have presumed he had forgotten all about it. But Bishop really had a knack for 'not doing' that seemed more meaningful and purposeful than actual 'doing'…

…_or maybe you just screw your brain too much __over that._

Nimble fingers, used to picking locks more than anything, closed on the knot of muscles in the junction between her shoulder and neck, giving a tentative knead. It sent a nearly painful jolt down her nerves, and Adele hissed, tearing her shoulder free. Neeshka blinked at her innocently.

"Want me to do that to you?" Adele jerked her head at the rogue's bandage.

The tiefling answered with her usual fake pout, sticking out lower lip. "Sure, abuse the weak and wounded, why don't you." Dropping her pretence, she frowned, inspecting Adele up and down: "Why so jumpy?"

"Nothing," Adele's tone came out more of a growl, grating even to her own ears, and she took a breath to smooth it. "Hate this place, Neesh. Hate to even spend a night here… but we _will_, anyway, we will," she added to Qara, who caught a bit of her words and was getting ready to object to the prospect of camping outside the town. The girl froze for a moment with her mouth half-opened, probably thinking that since she opened it already she might as well say something, but decided against it finally.

Grinning at the sorceress, Neeshka turned back to Adele: "Take it easy. We're not doing anything, all calm and peaceful. Besides, we've got a paladin carrying a sleeping little boy. If you know a more innocent picture, name it," Adele shook her head, stifling a smile at Casavir walking ahead of them, Marcus somehow managing to settle himself on his shoulder between all the plates of the armour. The boy was sleeping almost throughout the whole journey, making Adele wonder if he had had any sleep at all during his staying in the well. "So no one's gonna bother us."

Adele nodded, looking to the side as they were passing Haeromus' office. Solid figures of the guards keeping watch were half-covered by darkness, but she caught a glimpse of the face that looked familiar (_Berth, is it?_) and couldn't deny herself a twisted pleasure of inclining her head markedly, with an overly polite smile plastered on her lips and her fingers touching the hat in mock salute. The soldier didn't move, but she felt his glare following her, peeling off her skin like a branding iron being dragged over her body.

Turning back, she was met by ice-cold stare of Sand, the wizard totally unimpressed by her flippant taunts.

"I'm glad you find your situation so thoroughly hilarious," he said, toneless.

"You have no idea how much I _don't_, Sand," she muttered. "I'm just trying to."

"Then I have to ask of you to stop."

"…'kay," she agreed easily, stretching her lips in her best girlish smile, which only served to make the wizard graver. As much as she wanted, right then she couldn't bring herself to care. The inn (_…and bar…_) ahead of them held much more weight than Sand's moods.

She did slower her pace, though, noticing a lonely merchant-tent on the already deserted market-place. The elven herbalist, Nya, was busy collecting her wares from the stand for the night as well, assisted by a snub-nosed human girl of about ten, probably her apprentice.

Seeing her stalling, others stopped as well, looking between her and the merchant, but Adele waved for them not to: "I'll catch up with you at the inn, people, go ahead."

"What, again?" Khelgar leaned pointedly on his axe, to emphasize he was staying right in his spot – and, probably, to ease the work for his still unrecovered leg. "Ya'r always so eager to jest get rid of us, lass, I won't let ya on principle."

Qara glared at him, then at the rest, seeing that she was left in the minority, and rolled her eyes helplessly, enough for another grin to split Neeshka's face. Shandra flinched at her:

"Gods, Qara, a couple of minutes won't shatter you," she muttered and nodded to Adele, "We'll wait here, go on. She'd like to know."

"Yeah, princess," Bishop murmured softly, drawing the woman's suspicious glance, "go play the saint again."

…_And here it comes__ again… _

It was a small consolation, imagining in colours how she could plunge her nails into his face and drag them all the way down, clawing off his smirk in one bleeding shred of flesh, as she had to settle only on a tight 'go-die-scum' smile. "Don't try me, ranger. Not today."

Whatever he had to say in return, Adele no longer paid any attention to it and simply headed off towards the merchant's stall.

Nya smiled, recognizing her at once, but her smile seemed more of expectant than truly cheerful. "Hello again."

"Hi," Adele glanced briefly at the girl. "It's about Ember."

"Talia dear, go on, I'll be right back," the woman said to the child without missing a moment, not dropping her smile, which now seemed as weak and false as a paper fish. The girl didn't answer, sneaking a puzzled glance at her mentor as the latter skirted the stand to come to Adele. Taking hold of her elbow, Nya brought her a bit away, closer to the rest of the band.

"Easy there," Adele murmured. "The guards might decide we're buying some funny herbs from you."

"…Sorry," Nya gave a nervous chuckle, nodding to Adele's companions in greeting, then turned back to the woman, her dark shimmering eyes searching. "So?"

"We took care of the bodies. Well, as much as the amount of wyrmsage allowed, that is."

"Wasn't _enough_?" Nya's voice dropped to shocked whisper, but she got a hold of herself quickly, pursing her lips and nodding. "At least something. How… how was it?"

_Do you really want me to go into descriptions?_

_I know _I_ don't._

"…Bad," Adele said simply, looking at her.

Nya nodded again, slowly, probably understanding everything there was to understand, and ran her fingers through her short hair fretfully. "I see…" she breathed out quietly.

"Luskan will be forced to bury them at some point," the woman added on impulse, to soften her own words somehow, "if they decide to re-build the place and bring new settlers in. The position is convenient, so I don't see why they wouldn't." Only as Nya's dim eyes got locked on her, did Adele realize that neither her words, nor her tone sounded particularly comforting. Though the only feeling it evoked in her was even greater weariness. Rubbing her eyes, she shrugged. "There's little that can be done right now, anyway. When all the commotion dies out… maybe Haeromus can be persuaded to spare some people to bury them. He seemed to have taken it almost personal, so as long as he'll be able to do it quietly without any mess with Luskan…"

She fell silent, giving up at the dead look the elf was staring at her with.

_Damn you, woman, I wasn't the one to come up with these laws._

"…I suppose you have a point," as if answering her thoughts Nya muttered finally, shifting her gaze away into distance. Adele mentally thanked everyone there was to thank for merchants' practicality that chose the best time to awaken in the elf. "At least, worth a try."

"Everything's worth a try," Adele forced a tired smile at her – to which, surprisingly, Nya answered with a smile of her own:

"However it turns out, thank you. I really mean it. No one was willing to do a thing, and you… I don't even know if I can repay…"

"No need to, it was on our way," Adele objected, but without particular heat. Some coins never hurt. She could use new boots. And could surely use some spare money – simply for the sake of having them.

_You never know__, and ten thousand is one damn big pile to collect if suddenly needed…_

"Wait," Nya hastily unbuttoned the high neck of her robes, and after a second of fumbling hooked up a thin chain, pulling it over her head and handing to the other woman. Adele blinked at the small, but skillfully done egg-shaped locket encrusted with a tiny blue jewel in the twine of silver carvings. "Take this."

"…Oh," money was one thing, but a pendant – a pendant the woman kept this close – was quite another. "But you-"

"Please," Nya almost pushed it into her hand. "It's a bit of an amulet, too, has minor protective charms on it. Minor, but still worth of something…"

She grew quiet. Adele looked down at the medallion, running her nail over its side until found the chink, and opened, without any surprise finding it empty. Closing the locket, she stared at Nya, who was following the pendant with a vacant look.

"I'm not sure… It looks like it was a gift, no?"

"It was _supposed_ to be a gift, from me," she shrugged. "But the receiver was gone before the jeweler finished it, so… I have no use of it. Really."

"…Alright, if you say so," Adele closed her palm over the medallion, the chain slipping through her fingers. _I'm still accused of mass-murder, but, at least, will have a charmed trinket meant for a priest of Kelemvor. Ta-dah._

_Hells, I'm a bitch tonight…_

"It'll look good on you. If not, some merchant would gladly relieve you of it, I'm sure," Nya offered her another weak smile, reaching out and squeezing her elbows for a moment, before stepping back. "Thank you again. Whatever you might need, don't hesitate asking. And good luck on the trial."

Half-nodding half-shrugging, Adele took off towards her companions – only after a dozen or so steps coming to fully realize Nya's last words. Glancing back, she saw the elf already joining her apprentice, both of them packing up the last of the merchandise.

_When __exactly had I introduced myself?_

The thought brought a small smile, not that happy or relieved, but a smile still. Shaking her head, Adele went on, twirling the locket on her finger.

"Jewelry," Bishop's caustic voice was the first to welcome her. "Don't tell me you, gals, got engaged."

"You are a big boy, you'll get over it eventually," Adele answered flatly, letting go of the amulet as Neeshka tugged it to have an inspection.

"Wow, crafty," the tiefling brightened, glancing up at her. "You want to sell it – just tell me, I know a handful of those to give a good price."

Adele arched her brow, "What, for silver trinket? How much is 'good', I wonder."

"Tymora kick me, Del, sometimes you are such a bumpkin. It's white gold, not silver."

"…It is?" she stole another peek over her shoulder, but the herbalist was already gone.

"Yeah," Neeshka grinned. "Merchants who have golden jewelry simply lying there for handing it to everybody coming across… Go figure."

"Don't think she has that much, just was quite eager to get rid of this one."

"Why, it's so beautiful," Shandra noted, also fingering the locket.

"…Ah," the tiefling's smile faded a bit, and she handed the medallion to Shandra hastily, shrugging at her puzzled expression. "Maybe it's cursed or something."

Snorting at Shandra's look, Adele snatched the locket from her: "It's not. Simply a memory of her former man she doesn't want to remember anymore, that's all. And _no_," she added to Neeshka, "I don't feel like selling it."

"Sentimental, are you?" Neeshka shook her head. "Fine, your chachka."

"Not me, she is. Handed me her heart, have to respect that," she trailed off, noticing a strange wistful look Casavir was giving her, faint, but starkly obvious on his usually stony face. For whatever reason, but it left her uncomfortable, with a weird wish to explain or make excuses; a feeling that he understood something she didn't mean. Again. "And it _is_ pretty."

"Shame the poor thing had no idea she was 'handing' it to the supposed murderer," the ranger murmured.

"You know, Bishop," Shandra snapped, "If you keep that bullshit you are thinking to yourself, no one will miss it."

…_You just condemned yourself to listening to him for hours to come,_ _Shandra,_ - Adele thought grimly, seeing the ranger smirk dryly at the farmer. – _Even if he runs out of words, he'll start humming. Just to spite._

"She _had_ an idea, in fact," she said aloud calmly, smiling when Bishop glanced at her doubtfully. A small triumph was a triumph nonetheless. "And a damn good one."

"…Indeed?" Sand echoed.

Adele frowned down at him, "I'd feel much better if you didn't sound so startled, Sand." Though she had already learned that thoughtful expression to mistake it for simple surprise. "Woman just happened not to believe all the crap that is told. Thank the gods for small miracles and all."

"Worth of some consideration," the wizard remarked vaguely. "Though, not in the street, I hope?"

"…Right, sure."

Still smiling, she followed him and the rest on the renewed way to the inn, running the chain of the pendant through her fingers and secretly admiring the dance of gleams and shades on the tiny jewel. The more she looked at it, the better seemed the idea of keeping it.

_Oh Hells, never had a trinket before. __Why not this one?_

The pain echoed through her arm as she undid the small clasp of the chain, but Adele didn't allow it to stop her. Neither did she pay any particular heed towards the scoffing glance Bishop presented her activity with.

"Jealous, lovely?" she curred without looking at him. "Don't worry, we'll find a damsel who will give you _her_ heart."

"Dangling on a chain as well?" Bishop sniffed. "I'll pass. Seems too much like a brand."

"Never thought you would care," she locked the chain on her neck.

"Never said I would," his stare was deliberate, leaving an almost tangible trace on her skin, following the pendant as it slid down into the cut of her jerkin. "At least it's a wonderful heart. Golden and with jewels."

Her smile didn't waver. "You are disgusting, ranger."

"Whatever turns you on, princess."

* * *

Unlike the town itself, the tavern was much more tightly packed than during their previous visit. It appeared that nearly all of the male population of Port Llast made their way here after the sunset. Not to mention numerous sailors that swarmed all over the tables and counter, loud, drenched in salt and ale; their uproar and sheer number was enough to make Elanee look sick. Even Marcus stirred in his sleep on Casavir's shoulder, squinting at the crowded room. Shandra moved closer to them, murmuring something to the boy, something Adele didn't bother to try and distinguish.

Instead she took a breath and cut into the throng, elbowing her way towards the innkeeper's table with her undamaged arm.

"Neverwinter Watch!" she barked at the back of particularly heavy and unmovable sailor, almost making him jump out of her way from mere unexpectedness. Looking back and seeing that the threat was nothing more than a soiled spindly girl, he broke into a meaningful smile, but Adele already made her way from him far enough not to care.

She found the innkeeper at his usual spot in the corner, his gaze attentive at the counter and the mob gathered near it. From the way his right hand was lowered under the table, Adele figured he had a weapon stashed there. Probably, for too special occasions.

"Evening," she raised her voice to shout down the crowd, smiling as he turned to her.

"Ah, welcome back, miss," his gaze swept over her bruise still richly covering the side of her face, then her dirty armor and cloak, her crumpled hat… Adele didn't stop smiling. "Tough trip?"

"You could say so," she nodded at the uproar. "Any chances there are spare rooms left?"

"Why, sure, as much as you want. You think they come here to have a nap? Half of them prefer crawling back and sleeping off the ale between their unloaded crates," he threw another quick inspecting glance at the crowd, when his eyes widened, "Is that a _wolf_?"

_No, it's an ungrateful swine._

"It's a dog," Adele answered instantly without even looking and leaned on his table, flashing him a broad smile. "So, about rooms?"

He had no time to answer, interrupted by a burst of noise, and Adele dropped her head doomily before turning to see what the matter was. Her coin was for Khelgar, but she found the dwarf not far from herself, already with a tankard and undeniable innocent look. Who _didn't_ look innocent for sure was a ragged brawny sailor, sitting at the counter with a totally idiotic lewd grin that screamed of several barrels of ale.

Grin that was targeted at Qara.

_Oh boy… _

"_What_ did you say?" Adele didn't even realize it was possible to shriek and hiss at the same time, but Qara managed. "_'Warm you up'_?"

Casavir lowered Marcus on the floor, leaving him on Shandra and looking damned determined to enforce peace if needed. Khelgar grinned, sopping up ale foam from the top of his tankard, clearly intending to enjoy the show, and elbowed Adele in the side, welcoming her to join him.

"Oh, go to Hells," with a groan Adele pushed herself off the table, heading towards the pair, inwardly cursing the fool who could molest any other woman in the room – but, no, in unending stupidity chose the exhausted infuriated sorceress. "Qara, don't!"

Pale green eyes snapped to her, the girl's every move seeming marred through the slight blur of air heating around her.

"Qara," came a warning drawl from Sand.

_Great__, throw in a wizard to the pile._

Regarding both of them, the sorceress glared back down at the sailor, who still seemed far from realizing what was going on. More so, he looked ready to spew something about how 'he liked 'em with a temper'.

"I'd run," Neeshka offered him helpfully, leaning on the counter at the sorceress' side.

The sailor only gazed her up and down, inspecting what little appearance the tiefling's hooded cloak allowed to see, and grinned even broader: "Hey, you're fine, too. How 'bout the three of-?"

The rogue didn't bother to listen further, shoving her boot into the stool he was sitting on, hard enough to send the man landing on the floor, accompanied by Khelgar's gleeful whistle. It was the same moment Adele took a hold of Qara's forearm, growling quietly: "Don't even think, we need this place."

"Oh please, I didn't even _do_ anything yet," the girl sneered, but Adele was no longer looking at her, fixing a glare at Neeshka.

The tiefling shrugged, although it was obvious she had hard time not to smirk, all too sure that they would get unscalded out of any hot water: "He started it."

_And is pretty intending to finish it, it seems._

The sailor was quick to collect himself from the floor and staggered to his feet, his expression changing to clear anger. "You'll pay for that."

"That was payment already," Adele flatted at him instead of Neeshka. "You said your piece, got treated accordingly, everyone's even, now off with you".

"Who the Hells asked you, wench?"

"I, for one, think the lady is right," came the voice from his side, and Adele smiled inwardly at the nervous gleam in the sailor's eyes when he glanced at its source. With Casavir's height, built, armour, set face and every word being so clearly cut, even his politeness could appear threatening.

"For almighty gods above!" the innkeeper moved in, a club in his hand, and pointed it at the sailor. "You won't start a fight here. At least since no one's interested in taking part."

"That's what I always say," Khelgar guffawed, taking another sip of his ale – but already in the spot from where he could rush in and join the battle should it erupt. "Ya need number fer fun, or it's jest a waste o' time."

The sailor glared around, seeing that, indeed, there were no willing allies to his cause. Most of the other patrons chose Khelgar's strategy, settling back to watch, only gave occasional half-hearted encouragements. Adele presumed fights weren't a novelty around here – perhaps, for the exception of a sorceress taking part in them – but that probably meant that the local guards were just as ready for them and wouldn't need much time to appear.

Wouldn't they appreciate the possibility to finally arrest her for disrupting the peace?

_Just begone,_ - she sent a mental command to the sailor, calmly keeping her eyes on his broad spade-like face. – _Or take a tankard and have a…_

"Hey, I know you!" he suddenly exclaimed and sneered at her, casting victorious glance around. "Heard the descriptions! She's the Butcher of Ember!"

That had to be the deadliest silence the inn had witnessed.

…_Huh?_ – seemed to be all her mind was capable of. – _What the Hell? They have a _title_ for it already?_

Adele let go of Qara's arm.

"I hope you have at least _some_ weight to your words, young man," Sand commented dryly, "not just puppy-yapping at every-"

"Aye, that would be me," Adele nodded curtly at the man. "The Butcher of Ember and her merry men. So?"

The sailor gaped at her, his sneer evaporating in confusion and alarm. She was risking, she knew it even without the unbelieving stare of Sand from across the room – these salt-curried men were no guards, and the only reaction to threat they knew was to wipe the floor with the named threat, throw it to the ditch and congratulate each other on being tough fearless guys. Coming from the Mere, Adele even respected and admired such simplicity. But, damn, if she wasn't too tired to care. All she wanted was to wake up and discover it was a nightmare – the feeling all the worse from the knowing that would never happen. How come that from all her skills fooling herself was one she always failed at?

Adele smiled.

"I believe you _had_ a reason to bring it up," she murmured at the sailor, her voice, even as hushed as it was, perfectly clear in the silence. "Got some village that needs razing out? Come on, tell me. I know some girls like knitting, or cooking, or fussing with kids…" She smiled broader: "Some would even consider lying under a dirty drunk-through pig like yourself waiting for him to _finally finish_ a tolerable way of spending her time. Me, I just can't imagine a good ending of a tenday without killing at least fifty people. We, wenches, can be weird like that."

They were _all_ staring at her by now, patrons and her own companions alike, and Adele felt that just a bit more – and she would end up jumping up and down, howling or laughing or…

Surely it was Bishop who chuckled. A quiet masculine chuckle, with already familiar 'she-is-stupid-but-funny' undertone – but exactly the type to resonate with the rest of the patrons. Another snicker from the far corner followed, then another – and soon the rest of the sea-folk was laughing in honest. Just like that the Butcher was gone. Simply a pretty girl with a strange sense of humour and gutsy like Hells-know-what. Something _they_ could respect and admire. Innocent again.

"Whoe'er she is, she has more balls than you do, Jarek," someone called from one of the tables. "Get lost already, save some face!"

The sailor, left on his own again, seemed to be ready to say something, but there still was Casavir near him, and Khelgar got even closer to 'his lasses' at the bar, so he soothed his pride with an obscene gesture and whirled towards the exit.

"Aww", Qara crooned after him, "how I _love_ them crawling back with their tail between their legs after something _they_ started in the first place."

Neeshka blew out a relieved sigh and shot Adele a fast glance: "Who could have guessed kicking the chair leads to something like that, huh?"

Adele answered with an empty stare, feeling no wish to argue or reprimand the tiefling – though her silence accomplished the same, as Neeshka squeezed out a guilty grin and fingered the bandage on her shoulder absently, as if subconsciously reminding that she was 'the weak and wounded', thus should be spared.

Some patrons actually followed the sailor, shuffling to the door as well. Not much, but still. The rest, thankfully, got back to their ale, throwing occasional looks at the company and discussing something in hush voices and sniggers. Friendly enough.

Turning her head a bit, Adele wasn't surprised to see Bishop's expectant gaze on her. She nodded her thanks. He smirked, narrowing his eyes in mocking acceptance.

_Understanding of accomplices__, indeed…_

"So," came the innkeeper's grave voice. Adele turned to face him, already a smile on her lips. He eyed her coolly. "Butcher of Ember, eh?"

"_Please_, you can't believe it, honestly."

"_Supposed_ Butcher of Ember?"

"…If I may interfere," Sand slithered to their side, his silken tone drawing attention of the man. "We are here in a number of nine individuals. Intend taking a separate room for every one for the whole night. Don't we?"

"Yeah, how much's that, by the way?" Adele reached eagerly for her beltpouch.

"And I bet that _is_ a wolf," the innkeeper added sullenly.

"Besides, most of us are exactly in the mood to empty half of your kegs."

"…"

"Of your best."

"…Alright, deal," he spared a wary glance at Qara. "But the girl better behave."

"_Me_?" the sorceress hissed. "It was _me_ who didn't behave?"

"She will," Sand nodded calmly.

"…As long as there's a bath in this barn," the girl seeped through her teeth.

"Actually," Adele grinned, "I second that."

* * *

Her arm hurt like all Hells from the rub, but Adele didn't care – she had hot water, soap and cloth she had no wish to miss. Getting rid of as much of dirt and blood as possible both from her gear and herself, she rinsed her hair several times until it _almost_ didn't smell of smoke anymore, then, without waiting for it to dry, tied it back under the hat, pulled on her clothes and tapped to the main room with a certain objective to drink herself to stupor so she could sleep like a log without any dreams.

Both Casavir and Elanee were gone to take care of Marcus. Qara after her wash also retreated to her room, making Adele guess that the girl wasn't really that much into getting attention as it could seem at first sight. The patrons, though, increased in number during her absence, and from the way some followed her with curious gazes the woman presumed they were drawn by the story from before. Khelgar, who was quick to gulp down several mugs of ale already, finally found himself a handful of tipsy sailors, with whom had a joyful fist-fight, after which went on drinking in their company – and exactly with them soon took off towards the kitchen looking for second supper.

Adele was surprised to see Sand in the mob as well. The wizard made himself comfortable behind the table in the very corner, shifting through his journal, raising his eyes at the patrons only when the uproar seemed to get particularly loud. His pale chiseled face held a mixture of disgust and surprise, as if he couldn't fathom how such a noise was even possible without any magical or demonic support.

Neeshka and Shandra took it upon themselves to fetch some meal and drink, with Grobnar as an always-willing assistant. In anything. Bishop neither helped nor hindered them, occupying the end of the table, his back flatted against the wall, his feet on the table, and sipped his ale slowly. He was keeping an eye on the entrance and appraised quickly every one coming in – especially if it was a female – but at the same time attracted little to no attention to his person. Even when his mug got empty, and the ranger made it towards the counter for another, he slipped between people so deftly and quickly that no one turned. Karnwyr was lying under his chair, this time trying his teeth on a bone, so huge it could fit an ogre as a mace, and threw occasional unfriendly glowers at Sand.

"Everything's okay?" Adele wondered, slumping herself on the stool near the wizard.

"Sure," Neeshka grinned from across the table, still a bit too eager to cover her previous lapse. "Though the sop clearly has a grudge, 'cause the guards turned up. But Falgor shooed them off."

"…Who?"

"The owner guy. Said things are fine and he never noticed anything out of sorts," she shook her head with a smile. "Think he has a crush on you."

"Lucky me, then," Adele nodded, glancing at Sand. "Never thought _you_ will enjoy yourself in drinking."

"Live as long as I have, and you'll learn to enjoy even the strangest of things," the wizard shrugged, looking up at Shandra waiting for her order at the counter, then smiled at Grobnar who was engrossed in reading the elf's journal from under his arm. "My little friend, if may ask for a favour…"

The gnome's head shot up: "Oh, of course."

"Make sure the owner of this… establishment is aware I'll need some spare candles in my room."

"Sure," Grobnar jumped off the chair and hopped deeper into the room, leaving only the three of them at the table.

Sand's smile was gone.

"There's a reason I was waiting for you to join," he nodded at Adele, casting another speculative gaze at Shandra, as if checking how long will it take her to come up to them.

"…Yeah?" Adele rubbed her lids, fully expecting to get her scolding for before. "What's up?"

"Alaine," the wizard said instead, and the woman lowered her hand to the table, frowning at him. "I believe we have learnt enough both from Marcus' words and visit to Ember to prove her story wrong."

"…I see," she took a deep breath, realizing Sand had just added another couple of glasses to all the amount she planned on drinking tonight. "You… I… Sand, I'd really appreciate if you handled another interrogation on your own… I don't-"

"That's not what I meant," he cut her off. "Or, should I say, I meant exactly the opposite. My suggesting is that we _don't_ interrogate her again."

Adele stared at him, unable to tell if she was too tired or suddenly too stupid to get his point.

"But…" Neeshka leaned closer to them. "You said yourself that if we don't use her, the Luskans will."

"That I did. What I say now is - let them."

…_Yes, you _were_ wise to make sure Shandra doesn't hear it…_

"First, it'll put Torio's at ease," the elf went on. "Why, the key-witness will be at her side. Considering that she planned on delivering our squire to Luskan in the first place, now she is as much in a forced hurry over the case as we are, and would be pleased with any success," not for the first time Adele thought that Sand had a really creepy gleam in his eyes when speaking of his foes. "Second – just think how much more of emotional impact the girl's retraction of testimony will cause when done in the middle of the trail. From my part I guarantee that she _will_ retract."

Neeshka shifted her eyes to Adele, not saying anything, but her uneasiness was almost palpable. Adele didn't answer to her gaze, still looking emptily at Sand.

…_So, yet again, it is _my_ decision to make, huh?_

_Gods, I __need a drink so badly…_

"I _really_ don't fancy the idea of handing her to Luskans, Sand."

"From what I remember of her reaction towards us – and _you_ – she'll obviously choose them over you if asked. My dear, as much as I may sympathize with the girl," the dryness of his voice, though, conveyed none of sympathy, "it's _your_ life that was… entrusted with me," she wanted to object, but he forestalled that: "I am sure she will not be harmed. Torio is not that careless – and she _needs_ this witness. I'm sure she will spend hours at her side, wiping her tears and stroking her back. My word she'll be all but pampered in their custody."

"_Your_ word, exactly," the woman muttered, leaning her head in her hands and scratching her temples. "And how much of a Luskan are you, Sand, to be so sure of their actions?"

"…Accurately enough, no more, no less, if dealing with them might be called that," he answered grimly.

"And according to _that_ you suggest we trust the victimized scared girl into their hands and then, once she takes her part in the trial, crash her testimony in front of Hells know how many citizens and judges?" no answer came, and Adele didn't even raise her head to see his expression. _I want to drink. I sooo want to…_

_And it'll help you how?_

_M__akes me stop caring._

_Are you?_

…

"It better work, Sand," she muttered finally, straightening up on the chair and seeing Grobnar zigzagging his way through the crowd back to the table. "It better work."

"It will," the wizard nodded, briefly covering her forearm with his palm, shifting his gaze from the gnome to Shandra. "And I would highly appreciate if both of you spared me arguing this case with anyone else."

Neeshka shrugged, but in sort of an agreeing way. Adele closed her eyes for a moment.

"Everything's settled, master Sand," Grobnar informed them, climbing on the chair Bishop used to occupy, not minding Karnwyr's quiet snarl. "The innkeeper said that for additional twenty coppers you'll have enough candles to corn them for winter. And that is a lot, I guess."

"Charming," Sand murmured, picking up his journal from the table to free some space for mugs and glasses Shandra was carrying towards them.

From the stern look of the farmer's face, though, she hardly would have cared for the inconvenience. She simply slammed the dishes on the table, hard enough for some of the liquid to splash out, rimming the bottoms with wet circles.

"What's up?" Neeshka queered over-joyfully, while Adele grabbed one of the glasses with wine.

Shandra leveled a grave gaze on them.

"I hate him," she informed the table in a frosty tone. "And not in a 'boy, he's an ass' way, but honest-to-gods hate him."

Adele snorted into the glass, stealing a glance at the ranger's back at the counter. "I don't think it's going to upset him," she muttered, taking another gulp. Wine tasted good, bitter-sweet, and smelled of fallen leaves…

Shandra tossed her head, trying to banish the memories, and eyed the rest: "What you've been discussing so thoroughly?"

"Nothing," Adele smiled. Easily. The spirits were definitely starting to take over her quickly, since she hadn't eaten anything essential for a long time. "Just talking 'bout some trial nonsense again."

"…I think you should really take a break," Shandra said, taking her place, and threw her hands up: "Just saying, but your trail isn't going to run anywhere from you."

"Aw, you're my girl," Adele saluted her with the glass, taking yet another draught.

"Well, if not about the trial…" Neeshka edged closer to Shandra, her tail twining in curiosity, and lowered her voice. "What did the bastard say this time?"

"Really, you don't expect me to repeat, do you?" the farmer scoffed, shaking her head once more, and glanced at Adele. "Haven't you ever wanted to strangle him?"

"Many times," the woman nodded with all honesty. "But if I did, I would have to look for another ranger all trained up and not giving a damn about the dangers we go through."

"Oh, come on," Neeshka waved her hand at Shandra. "It's even funny at times, all his 'I'm such an evil badass' stuff. I just can't take it seriously. I mean, if he _was_, he wouldn't just go around claiming it so openly, right?" she looked around the rest of the company. "Right?"

Sand rubbed the tip of his nose absently, all back to his writings: "Denial is a well-known mean of mind and conscience self-defense. So there's always a possibility that the man is aware of it, so there's really no need for him to justify his actions in any way - as those who want to will find excuses for him on their own."

The tiefling blinked, moving her puzzled look from the elf to soundlessly chuckling Adele.

"Gods, Sand, you are on fire today," Shandra drawled.

The wizard smiled coldly. "I believe it's more Qara's field of expertise."

"…Well, okay, _I _didn't get that," Neeshka stated sullenly, leaning back on the chair and crossing her arms on her chest.

"Oh, miss Neeshka, it is actually very simple," Grobnar piped in merrily, "like everything that is genius! The matter is—"

"No, _you_, little cheat, don't even start!"

The gnome fell silent and glanced back curiously, looking for the one Neeshka was addressing, but finding nothing but the wall behind him measured it with a confused gaze. Taking another sip and still smiling, Adele licked her lips:

"Sand meant that you might be right and as well might be wrong."

"…Oh. Well, could have just _said_," the tiefling scratched the point of her ear, then grinned again. "So anyway, what I'm wondering is when exactly Casavir going to run out of patience with him. He _should_ at some point, right?"

"Well, logically, yeah," Adele nodded.

"Care to bet on time?"

Sand looked over them and shook his head regretfully: "I suppose that simply a surprised innocent face is not going to persuade others I have nothing to do with your group and happen to be here by accident."

Neeshka snickered: "Come on, you can join."

"Why, of course, I've never been this eager," he deadpanned. "I'll just wait for the first next receipts from my shop."

"I thought you closed it," Adele arched her brow at him.

"No, I left a Leomund's Merchant element instead of me."

"…Huh?"

Sand heaved a sigh. "…No matter. Just believe me when I say the shop is working as is supposed."

Shandra snorted, taking a sip from her own mug: "Sometimes I wish I inherited some… arcane sense from my grandfather. I bet he _did_ something apart from constructing labyrinths of death and then hiding them Hells know where."

"No one said they were actually 'of death'," Adele noted.

"Well, _yeah_, I _suppose_ Mother was exaggerating, but… wizards _do_ build overly-protected towers and sanctuaries."

"Right," Neeshka chuckled. "Look at Sand and all his towers."

The elf smiled. "I like to think I am too young still to build my own tower."

"Wait, I just figured… Did you happen to know him?" Shandra asked, peering at him. "Seeing that you are close to-"

"No, I didn't. He was gone before I… moved to Neverwinter. Though I heard about him later, that I won't argue. Still… heard not enough as should have been about a court wizard," he fell silent before looking at Adele. "So you believe that his sanctuary holds some answers to those shards of yours?"

Adele grinned. She never would have guessed that after constant reminders of Ember and trial looming over her, speaking of the damned silver rubbish would be a relief. Yet it was. At least it gave a nice feeling of 'after'.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," she answered, rolling her shoulder lazily. "But that's our only clue so far. And, besides, Ammon Jerro is said to have been a specialist in githyanki and everything concerned. Buuut," she made a wide gesture towards Shandra, nearly spilling some of the wine. _Damn, that stuff is strong_. "We still have no idea where was that place he hid himself in from beard-pulling granddaughters."

"A-ha, very funny," despite her efforts, the farmer failed at sounding sarcastic and smiled, ruffling her hair. "Alright, I _thought_ about it, but honestly I have no idea. And the whole thing with needing my blood to get there… I'm _really_ in no hurry."

"What, it _has_ to be Jerro's blood?"

"How should I know? That's what Mother said. But I won't mind trying someone else first!" her grin turned gloating. "Maybe we can catch Bishop off guard?"

"The way you are going, girl," suddenly came the ranger's snide voice from the counter, muffled, but still discernable even in the noise of the room, "you might not have any blood at all in you by that time."

Neeshka and Grobnar both stared at him in surprise, but Bishop simply went on drinking, not answering their glances. Shandra flinched:

"His hearing is sometimes too sharp, if you ask me."

"He heard?" Neeshka hissed quietly, fixing her round eyes on smirking Adele. "He heard everything from the start?"

"Yup," the woman nodded, taking another sip of wine and studying Bishop's profile from above the rim of the glass. "Aaaand he still does."

Bishop turned his head a tad, looking at her from the corner of his eye, smirked and lifted his tankard, as if toasting for the power of her observation. Grinning, Adele returned the gesture.

"You are evil," Neeshka grouched. "Couldn't you warn or something?"

"Pfft, why bother?" putting away the empty glass, Adele stretched herself languidly and smiled, allowing her arms to fall on the back of her chair. She felt warm and lazy. Good. "If he can say whatever the Hells comes to his mind, why others can't? So tell me, Sand," she turned to the wizard, "when exactly had your sarcastic neglect of the shards turned to interest, hmm?"

The elf threw her a glance, making Adele wonder if he could say that she was tipsy already. _Not that you are hiding it, girly._

"To be completely honest, something in them hooked me the moment your uncle and your… father brought them to me years back," Sand answered finally, pursing his lips. "Something _was_ in them even then. It's just the way I am – always prefer answers to questions. And an unsolved mystery is able to keep me awake at night."

"Oh, me too," Grobnar agreed. "And mosquitoes as well. But not that often. Though sometimes it even happens that—ouch!"

He all but fell off the chair when came up Bishop took a hold of its back and shook the gnome off to the floor.

"Bishop," Adele cut off with almost Casavir's intonation, while Neeshka managed to catch Grobnar.

The ranger paid no attention to her, pushing his chair a bit to the side, so he could clearly see the entrance to the room, and sat down, nursing another tankard.

"My, I think I almost flew," Grobnar grinned, returning to the table – but again from Bishop's side, and the ranger pointedly lifted his legs, placing feet on the table and blocking his path. Grobnar stared at him questioningly.

"This here is _my_ place, gnome," Bishop sneered at him and waved his tankard at nowhere in particular. "And _way_ over there is your place. So – mind your place."

"But from _way_ over there I'm hardly going to hear anything."

"And it's written all over my face how much I give a damn."

"Bishop, what's the godsdamn pleasure of nagging him?" Shandra snapped, pushing his feet off the table.

"I can nag you, farmgirl, but that's an easy victory."

"Grobnar, come over here," Adele called for him. "There's a place here."

"Why, thank you, miss Adele," he smiled, "but I'm quite alright here."

"You know," Sand muttered, inclining his head to the woman, "I have a weird feeling he's actually enjoying it".

"The same here," she sighed and looked again at the gnome. "Come on, Grobnar, keep me company. I'm bored on my own, tell me something interesting."

"Oh, of course, my pleasure!" the tiny bard immediately rushed to her side.

Bishop spared her a sidelong glance, quirking up his brow:

"You surely have a death wish, princess."

She smiled dryly. "Apparently. Allowed you to tag along, didn't I?"

"No, _that_ proves you have some sense in you after all."

The woman had no time to answer – just like Grobnar had no time to start any of his stories – because at that moment Casavir stepped into the room, tactfully but persistently pushing his way through the crowd.

"Marcus is asleep", he stated as calmly as ever, taking place near Neeshka. "Elanee took him with her, will look after him."

"That's good," Adele nodded.

"Why are _you_ still awake?" Bishop wondered, throwing a short and already bored look at Casavir. "Early to bed, early to rise – Tyr smite you otherwise."

Neeshka choked on her ale, and Grobnar had to give her an accurate punch in the back. Casavir didn't pay any attention to that, regarding the ranger with a long stare full of unending cold patience:

"Are you _ever_ going to get tired, Bishop?"

He smirked: "Never in your life, paladin."

"Well," Adele cut into the budding argument with an overly broad smile, "it's good at least that Marcus can sleep _at all_ after everything."

"…Yeah," Shandra shivered. "He's so strange. As if he doesn't even care about what happened."

"Why should he?" Bishop replied serenely. "Nothing happened to _him_, after all. Kid took a knife, didn't lose a grip and survived. Other idiots could take a lesson," he shrugged, smirking, "if they weren't dead already, that is."

"You are so damned pleased with it," Neeshka noted, "that makes one wonder if you had anything to do with the whole shit."

"Trust me, demon, I would've had enough brain to check the well for survivors."

"…And that'll be all," Adele rounded, throwing up her hand. Her head was already whirring from all the wine. "Enough of black humour for one evening."

The ranger didn't answer, glancing at her shortly, and snorted quietly into his mug before taking a long draught.

"What's so funny _now_?" Shandra demanded with apparent anger.

"Nothing," he answered, keeping his gaze pointedly away from her, on the entrance-door. "Just remembered one fairy-tale…"

"Oh, which one?" Grobnar jumped in immediately, staring at Bishop with round adoring eyes.

"About a siren. You know, a winged wench that ensnared sailors with her singing. No one could resist and died. Until one guy figured to stop up his ears with wool – enough to still hear her, but to be immune to her charms. Curiosity, and all," Much to her own displeasure Adele found herself listening. She _knew_ that nothing good was to be expected – but couldn't help it. "Surprised the crap out of her, but she spared him. After all, no one was ever able to _listen_ to her properly without falling to her charms," he smirked. "So she sang, he listened, then they talked, walked, watched the sun, shagged, the usual. Actually made a pretty happy couple. And the wicked lonely creature she was, she fell asleep in his arms," with the same smirk, Bishop emptied his tankard and wiped his mouth with his wrist. "And when she did, the sailor took a stone and split her scull open."

"…Why?" the gnome frowned.

"Because she was a fucking _siren_, gnome."

Adele closed her eyes wearily. _Gods, does he actually _enjoy_ it when everyone around hate him?_

"That's a sad tale," Grobnar muttered.

Bishop shrugged, getting up from his place: "Just a tale," his gaze slid to the other side of the table, lips curling in another smirk. "Just a tale, paladin. Nothing to throttle me with your glare for."

_Yup__, __he __does__._

She followed the ranger with her eyes as he passed the table and moved towards the doors, not troubling himself with goodnight wishes. Just as silently and quickly Karnwyr slid out from under the chair and was gone after his companion.

"…Okay, that was creepy," Neeshka confessed.

Casavir sighed and shook his head, muttering grimly: "Great Tyr, grant me patience."

"You have enough to share, if you ask me," Shandra snorted, scowling at the door where the ranger disappeared. "I want to beat him senseless with a stick most of the time."

"Just pay him no heed, that's all," Adele shrugged.

"Yeah? Care to share a secret how you do it?"

"…Me?"

"Well, all those things he calls you…"

The woman snorted, starting up yet another glass of wine. "Whatever he says, he ends up doing what I need him to do. He can call me even shit-golem if it makes him feel batter."

"…Wow," Neeshka stared at Sand. "_Is_ there a shit-golem?"

"I'd be glad to live my life without knowing, my dear," he glanced to the side. "Please, Grobnar, _don't_ consider it."

"My point _is,_" Adele raised her voice to stop all this nonsense, "just… tune him out."

"I'm trying, but… " Shandra waved her hand. "Fine, he doesn't care about a damned thing, good for him! But why does he need to… rub it in all the time?"

"Dunno, so that no one ever thought otherwise," Adele shrugged, looking down into her glass. "After all, words can't kill you."

Casavir, probably feeling something in her voice, fixed a stare at the woman: "If he offended you in any way-"

"No-no," Adele nearly jumped up, blinking at him, actually afraid that paladin could make up his mind to go and beat the ranger. "I mean… I don't care what he says; I care for what he _does_."

Shandra chewed her lip, glancing at Neeshka. The tiefling raised her brows at her look: "What? Del talked a giant spider into helping us. If she trusts the ranger, so do I."

"Good point," Grobnar grinned.

"Do you?" Casavir asked, still looking Adele into the eye. "Trust him?"

She took several moments to drain her glass, then put it on the table: "That depends on your definition of trust. Do I trust him to put an arrow into the head of any _thing_ that ever attacks us? Hells yeah. Do I trust him to always _be_ there to do that?" she smiled. "…No. But then again, it's not actually something you can _demand_ from a person, right?"

After a second of consideration, Casavir nodded thoughtfully, shifting his gaze into space. Adele saw that he still had his doubts, but was thankful to him for trusting her judgment.

_Wordplaying __to screw the opinion of paladin of justice about a murderer…_ - the voice inside drawled acidly. - _Sweet. Wonder if there's a special Circle in the Hells for that._

"…Fine then," Shandra agreed with a sigh. "After all, you seem to be the only one whose words carry at least some weight with the bastard."

"Well then, let it be _my_ job to argue with him all the time," Adele smiled, pointedly ignoring Neeshka's sleazy grin, and nodded to Casavir in mock gravity. "But if he goes too far, you have my permission to smite his brains out. And that's not a _total_ joke."

Casavir smiled slightly and inclined his head in agreement – recognizing a joke, not rejoicing at the given authorities. Gloating was something he never seemed to feel.

_Maybe it's a paladin thing. They just don't gloat. By default._

"…And I'm out of wine," Adele concluded, getting up to her feet. Quite a feat, it appeared. "Anyone else?"

"I could have another one too," Neeshka backed up, exchanging glances with Shandra. The farmer nodded as well. "Repeat the whole round."

"I'll pass," Casavir answered, back to his calmness.

"Come on," the tiefling shoved him with her shoulder playfully. It occurred to Adele that as of late the rogue hardly cared for any discomfort the paladin's aura used to give her. "You've slain so many evil orcs, demons and gith – I'm sure Tyr will forgive a tankard."

Casavir's smile became more apparent, but he still shook his head at Adele's gaze. The woman looked down at the wizard then:

"Sand?"

The elf regarded the mugs and flinched with distaste: "Have to decline."

"…Mages…"

"It is my opinion of an alchemist that matters here more. It so happened I care for my stomach."

"Boy, thank you," Shandra grouched, studying her own mug.

"Oh, then I want to!" Grobnar chimed in, already dangling his legs on a chair Bishop left empty. "I love to guess the content of the liquid by taste."

"Should we risk?" Adele smiled, eyeing the others.

"For the sake of experiment?" Sand smirked. "Why, of course."

"Yes, let us!" the gnome grinned.

Chuckling to herself and gathering all the empty mugs, the woman went towards the counter, almost floated, as her legs seemed to enjoy shuffling rather than walking after all the wine. Squeezing herself between two patrons, she piled her load on the table top and gestured to the bartender for refill. The man at her side sneaked a surreptitious glance at her legs, but she placed her hand on the hilt of the rapier, tapping her fingers over it, and, as he looked up, smiled at him coldly. Shrugging, he edged away, already totally disinterested.

Adele smirked grimly at the thought that Bishop wouldn't have probably turned away even if she punched him in the eye.

Someone touched her elbow from behind, and her fingers instinctively closed on the hilt as she took an abrupt turn – but stopped, finding herself staring into the dark, dimly shining eyes of Malin. Adele frowned, not even aware until now that the ranger-girl was around, but relaxed. A familiar face was a pleasant sight:

"Hey."

"Welcome back," Malin nodded. She wasn't too obvious in studying her bruise, Adele gave her that. "Any luck? Found anything in that cave?"

"Well… you could say so. A couple of werewolves."

"…What?" the ranger gaped at her.

"_Gnome_ werewolves even," Adele couldn't hold back a crooked grin. _Gods__, __I__'__m__ drunk__._ "Sick thing, really. But they are dead now."

"Wait, wait," the half-elf rubbed her forehead. "A pack? In Duskwood?"

"No, no pack – two isolated females. Seemed… lost."

"…Probably left from the previous one. Damn," the ranger jerked her head in irritation, making her long braid sway behind her back, then smirked darkly. "Don't suppose you had a chance to ask them any questions, huh."

"Nope," Adele smiled in return. "How's your leg?"

"Better."

"Have a drink with us?" she nodded at the table, where Grobnar already climbed on its top and was in the middle of some no doubt thrilling story. Khelgar joined them, coming back from the kitchen with a plate of what looked like smoked ribs, and was now waving furiously to Adele, thus stating he wouldn't mind some ale as well.

Malin glanced back briefly at the company, but turned back. "No, I…" she licked the corner of her mouth, nervous. "Look, I don't even know you, never even learnt your name, sorry."

"Del," the woman introduced herself without any details and lowered her voice: "He's not here if you wonder. And sorry for before, I could have guessed you and him know each-"

"No problem," Malin waved it off, wincing a bit. "Was a bit unexpected, but… that's how it always is with him."

She fell silent, looking to the side. Adele didn't break the silence, seeing that the half-elf intended to say something, but was struggling for right words. Although she had an unpleasant feeling what it could be about.

Finally Malin heaved a determined sigh and turned her head, staring point-blank at her:

"Are you sleeping with him?" Adele drew a bit back, arching her brow at the flat tone, and Malin raised her hand to stop her possible objections. "I'm not jealous or something. I swear. I just need to know first."

"…I really don't see how that's any business of yours," Adele said levelly, "but no, I'm not."

The ranger nodded, suddenly content: "Then, perhaps, my words won't fall on deaf ears."

"Perhaps," the woman drawled warily. "Why?"

"Get rid of him."

"…Excuse me?"

"Get rid of him. As soon as possible. Better right now."

"Huh. Funny," Adele screwed her eyes shut for a moment to clear her head at least a tad. "Well, okay, not that funny. Why would I get rid of, your words, 'probably the best ranger on the Coast'?"

"Because otherwise he'll get rid of you."

"…Uh-huh. Sure, he can try, but…" _I'm drunk, I'm so drunk…_ "You serious? Look, I give him job to do. No one gets rid of the goose as long as it gives golden eggs."

Malin winced dismissively, "The man doesn't care for money as much as he likes to pretend. Just thinks that doing anything for free is stupid. So he doesn't. Ever," Adele found herself unsettled and irritated by the piercing look of those dark eyes. It was almost Bishop's look. But in this case she couldn't joke or flirt it off. "Tell me, did _you_ hire him? Or was _he_ the one to offer his services?"

Adele smirked: "From your tone I can already guess which variant is a bad one," Malin mirrored her humourless smirk, but the woman crashed her expectations. "Both. At first he was forced to… help us, then got a taste and decided that sticking around longer was worth his while."

"_Forced_?" Malin echoed, but Adele only crossed her arms and eased her back against the counter, silently stating she was not going into explanations.

The conversation was wearing down her patience. She didn't like the steel determination the half-elf was interrogating her with. Bishop was Bishop, and to paint his image pink and fuzzy could only the blind… but the whole thing seemed _wrong_. He was _the_ _band_, and for all his filthy nature, forced or not, but he fought side by side with them, he spilled his blood and risked his neck just like everyone. He _earned_ his right to be an ass around them, just like they earned their right to hate and curse him for that. But this girl was from the _outside_. Technically, she was no one, suddenly popping up with an opinion. An opinion that wasn't worth a rotten egg as far as Adele was concerned.

Whatever of her thoughts Malin managed to read from her face, but there appeared something nearly desperate in the line of her thinned mouth. "Look," she said quietly, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm a saint. No saint could work with him out of free will. I did. I _saw_ what he is capable of. Sometimes… gods, sometimes I even took part in it."

"You hate him, I got it."

"I don't hate _him_," Malin hissed with sudden vehemence. "I hate what he _does_. And I hate that he always _gets away_ with it."

Adele took a slow breath herself, shifting her shoulders in a shrug: "So far he did nothing wrong."

"Of course he didn't. Because when he starts, it means he had it all figured out already, weighed all pros and cons, learned all the ways in and out… By then it's too late to stop him." Adele didn't answer – not even knowing what to – and Malin sighed. "Believe me, for whatever reason you think he is with you, you are probably wrong."

"I never said there _was_ a reason. He simply helped us out. Took us across Luskan border to-"

"…Ah," a grim understanding smile slid over Malin's lips. "Of course… Luskans. Should have gathered it has at least something to do with them," as Adele didn't say a thing, staring at her expectantly, the ranger nodded: "He hates them. The only genuine feeling I recall seeing in him at all."

"Can't blame him," Adele shrugged. "Not a fan of them myself."

"It's hard to be, indeed," Malin smirked in agreement, but her smirk didn't last for long. "Still, you've probably just didn't see him when…" she cast her eyes away. "When we came across their patrols, he killed them. Except for one. Always left a single one to… _question_."

There was something in her tone, something close to shatter, and Adele found herself clearing her throat, as if there was a bone stuck inside: "Like…? Torture?"

"If it can even be called that way," Malin's eyes were empty, staring into nothing. "The things he did to them… I'm not justifying them or something, but… they are living breathing creatures after all…" she shivered.

"…Sure, no point torturing the dead," Adele muttered bleakly. The taste in her mouth turned sour. That mustard-like flavour again… With her inner eye she suddenly saw the pale blood-stained face of a boy with slit throat, sand-powdered orbs forever staring into the sky. Somehow the prospect of inflicting at least a bit (…_or better much_…) pain on the one who had done it didn't seem all that horrible.

…_But that's because it's personal… __Unlike killing, torture _is_ personal._

But now, as she thought back, every single thing Bishop ever said about Luskan, the mere sound of his voice _reeked_ of 'personal'… Much more personal than simply a fed-up ex-soldier…

"The man is sick," Malin stated finally. "Without any 'almost' or 'like'… He_ is_ sick. I, too, thought that it was just a way he likes to carry himself or something… I was wrong. He _is _every single thing he seems to be."

"…I …see," Adele pursed her lips. Her head was humming, and all she wanted was for the ranger-girl to simply get off. She was exhausted, and angry, and _drunk_, and really-really tired of this Bishop-centered world. "I got your point, alright. Thank you for the warning."

Malin studied her face, her eyes now almost sad. "You're tough, huh. Very well, I see there's no point for me to prove something. But he's honestly not the guy to test your toughness on. Trust me, I leant that the hard way."

Adele didn't answer again, looking back at the woman and realizing – no, she did not hate Bishop. She was actually afraid of him. After all the time – she still was.

With another sigh Malin stepped back: "Watch out for him. And your back." And she was gone, disappeared in the crowd, leaving Adele staring into space.

It was the call of the bartender that shook her out of the reverie, and the woman turned back towards the counter, facing her filled mugs. Blinking at them, she finally shoved all the dishes into her hands and stomped to the table.

"Ah-ha, reinforcements!" Khelgar grinned, picking up a part of her pick.

"Something wrong?" Casavir asked carefully, looking at her face. "Who was that woman?"

"Nah, it's nothing," Adele shook her head. "Just… I seem to have my fill. Need to sleep. A _lot_," she smiled, hoping that her smile doesn't reveal how tightly her teeth are clenched. "Good night everybody. Don't sit long."

"Sleep well, miss Adele," Grobnar cheered.

Others bid their farewells as well, but as Adele was tuning away, it didn't escape her how they exchanged wondering glances.

Passing through the common room, she went out into the hall, took a turn to the stairs towards the rooms…

…_You are not going to sleep, are you? Want to take advantage of yourself being drunk-n-bold?_

Her hand lingered on the railing of the staircase, as she shut her eyes and shook her head so vehemently the hat nearly fell off.

…_I'm going to do it, ain't I? Waltz in and ask 'Bishop, are you really a psychopath'?_

_Stupid…__ Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_That's another side of 'accomplices' to you. __To have someone's back, you need know against _what_._

Taking a breath, she started up the stairs…


	29. XXIX: Never Wake a Sleeping Beast

_A/N: __'M' warning for morally questionable (or pretty straight) disturbing content. Bishop's head can really be a sick-sick place._

* * *

**XXIX:** Never Wake a Sleeping Beast

The corridor was dim, rare oil-lamps on the walls doing little to fight the gloom, but enough for Adele not to risk trying her darkvision. Simple wooden doors all looked the same, and it took her some time to recognize her own, not to mention others. Still, passing her room, she moved further, ignoring the slight sway to the walls caused by her half-drunken state and doing her best to remember who was staying where.

Unnecessary, she discovered. Hardly anyone else would have had a wolf drowsing at the threshold.

At her arrival Karnwyr lifted his head, looking at the woman mistrustfully and, as she took a step towards him, rose to his paws.

"Relax, it's just me," she muttered.

Karnwyr cocked his furry head just as suspiciously, but moved a bit to the side, holding his gaze on her as she came up to the door – but, at least, didn't seem inclined to start a fight. Taking a breath, she raised her hand for a knock, but stopped, looking absently at her own knuckles.

Truth be told, Malin made her nervous. And because of that, all the more irritated. Gods witness, she had enough to worry about beside one of her companions turning out to be a raving sadist.

_What am I going to say?_

…_Well, something._

She clenched her fist tighter, watching the little bones moving under her skin.

_I just need to know, that's all. Besides, he seemed alright when at the table. Even sort of jovial._

Lie. He was _too_ jovial. The only time she ever remembered the ranger being so talkative, so theatrically flippant and playfully snide had been at the night when they brought Shandra back from the gith. At the 'Flagon', when he had said he was going to stay on with them. She hadn't liked it back then. And as sure as Hells she didn't like it today.

_Then why are you here?_

Wincing at the chaos in her own head, Adele found the only way to block it – she simply knocked.

Silence.

…_Great. What better sign to turn around and go? _

Adele looked down at the wolf. He shifted his eyes from her to the door and back, this time appearing almost curious, like he was interested in how his master would react to this night invasion. Though Adele suspected he had a better guess on that than her.

_Come on, ranger, wakie-wakie._

She knocked again, harder, without even giving much thought to her own doing. It just felt utterly worthless, coming here and simply leaving.

No answer.

Karnwyr ended up looking solely at her. If she didn't know better, she would have presumed the wolf was grinning.

"Love you too, darling," Adele grouched at him, then sighed and bent down, placing her one hand on her knee for support and reaching out towards the animal with the other. Karnwyr drew back and glowered at her, as if asking what in the Hells she wanted from him. She stopped her hand in the air, waiting for him to sniff it suspiciously. "Yes, you've bitten it already. What, you think you are the only one stubborn here?"

Swiftly circling the palm over his head to make him lose his bearings, she dipped her fingers into wiry grey fur, scratching behind the wolf's ear, and just as quickly snatched the hand away, grinning at the quiet snarl.

"Come on, didn't die, did you?"

Karnwyr sniffed, sounding almost miffed, and jerked his head out of her palm's reach. It only served to make her grin wider.

"Promising view," came Bishop's voice from above, and all her guts sank to her boots.

Adele turned her head and drew herself up, her gaze lingering for a moment on his bare feet. The sight was almost enough to bring a smile to her face. It was… too homely to resist. But the smile never came, as her eyes unwittingly slid from the feet up his long legs in slightly crumpled breeches of faded black – and stuck at the moulded relief of his bare stomach and chest. Surely he was well-built, with his style of life Adele would have been surprised to discover otherwise. Just as surely he was to have traces of wounds… but she never could have guessed _how much_. Swarthy skin was literally hatched with smooth white strips of scars, old stitches, canals of claw marks, almost making him look like he had been ripped to pieces and then sewn back together on someone's knee. She saw even several nasty patches of some old burns, as if a good rag of his skin had been peeled off – on the shoulder, on his arm, under the ribs, on his left side, not far from the trail of bronze hair running down between the slopes of his abs, passing the hollow of his navel…

Adele blinked, for a heartbeat caught utterly unawares by stupid yet frighteningly strong impulse to fill that hollow with her tongue, to run it down, its tip ruffling those short hairs all the way under the low waistband of his trews…

With pains, but she forced her eyes to snap up to his face… and froze.

For that face was shaved.

The woman had her suspicions that Bishop does shave sometimes after all… probably… well, _logically_. But it was actually the first time she _saw_ him shaven. Along with his hair disheveled after sleep, smooth cheeks made him look almost boyish… If it wasn't for the eyes. Intent, clear – even though he had been asleep just before – those eyes seemed to glitter in the shade of the corridor.

_I want him,_ - something inside of her growled, almost angrily, that part of her that always awakened at the sparkling intonations of his mordant voice, at the smoky smell of his skin… – _I want him for _my own_!_

Bishop leaned his shoulder against the door-post, giving a lazy scratch to his cheek with the dagger she hadn't even noticed in his hand before, and quirked an eyebrow: "Yeah?"

Adele could almost hear the moist 'clunk' as her tongue came off the palate it got stuck to, and strained her mind to produce at least one coherent thought. "You… shave _before_ sleep?"

"…Sometimes," his gaze slipped down her, slowly, until just as slowly returning to her face, amusement whirling behind amber iris. "Never know when a pretty lady comes by at night."

…_Well, crap. T__his certainly isn't helping. _

"Need to talk," she croaked.

"Just to talk?" he winced. "Not interested."

And before she could grasp anything, he pushed the door closed. Hissing in the air through her teeth, she shoved the door, flinging it opened into the room, and the ranger took an obviously startled step back.

"Well, _I _am," she cut off.

"I'm armed," he warned, as she strode past him into the gloom of the tiny ascetic suit diluted only by a faint flicker of a lonely candle on the table.

"Glad for you."

With a martyred sigh he closed the door behind her, dropping his weight on it. "I was sleeping."

"You are paranoid, you never sleep."

Bishop snorted at that, finally pushing himself off the door. "Need to bring back good-old tradition of twenty golds for a conversation – might have bought myself a castle in Calimshan already," he sat down on the unmade bed. "So, what got stuck in your fair ass _this_ time, my lady?"

"I was only -" she turned to him, just in time to catch his groping stare at her legs…

…_damn, it's like he's seeing me naked…_

…and put her hands to her hips: "Bishop, my eyes are higher."

_Look who said it,_ - her inner voice choked with laughter.

"I know," he answered innocently, slowly lifting his gaze up to her face, and smirked, settling back on the bed, leaning his shoulders against the wall and lacing his fingers on the stomach. "I'm all attention, princess."

Adele rolled her eyes and turned away, coming up to the table and taking the time when he could not see her face to screw her eyes tightly for a moment and suppress a completely idiotic wish to grin.

"Should be grateful at least for that, I guess," she concluded, dropping on the chair near the table, with her back to the candle, so that he wouldn't be able to discern her cheeks burning. "What happened between you and Malin, finally?"

It was his turn to blink, an unguarded surprised motion she saw in him so rarely – perhaps, being unexpectedly awakened had some effect on him still, depriving the ranger of at least a bit of his careful self-control.

"Tell me, princess, do you wake _all_ men in the middle of the night to ask about their former wenches?"

"No, unless… 'former wenches' speak some really creepy crap about them."

Something changed in his eyes, slightly, subtly…

"…Huh," he inclined a bit backwards, pressing the back of his head to the wall, the gleam of the candle casting deep trembling shadows over his face and body. Dim light was definitely doing the bastard too much justice, and even though she couldn't recall ever seeing someone so badly scarred, still, somehow darkness, firelight and Bishop went very well together. _Too_ well. "Someone's been asking questions, I see."

"That's exactly the funny thing – I wasn't, yet I still got answers," she raised her brows. "But, well, no harm in finding out something about a person whom I entrust leading me and my companions through deadly forests."

"Reasonable," he nodded, unruffled. "So, what did you find out?"

"…Nothing pretty, to tell honest."

"I bet," the ranger smirked, lowering his lids a little, making it impossible to read his eyes. "Let's have a stroll along the Sword Coast, come across some more wenches I was unfortunate to fuck, listen to them. Maybe the gnome will write a book, all sad and sobby. What's next?"

_I don't know… Damn, why did I even come?_

_Oh, you know why_, - the voice inside cooed.

…_No way._

"Next…" she drawled, doing her best to make her voice sound even, "I want to listen to your side of the story. I have more reasons to trust you than her."

"Honored," neither his tone, nor his face changed.

"So what happened?"

"We travelled together. Then I left."

"…And that's it?"

"Yeah," smirk flashed back to place, sharp and crooked, making it hard to get if he was glad or furious about something. "You asked for my side of the story, didn't you. She is a fool. What's worse, she's a completely _useless_ fool. It's hard to respect someone who makes stupid decisions. And when you don't respect someone – you leave. Simple as that."

Adele stifled a swallow, her throat dry and suddenly scratchy, and jerked her head a bit higher: "Is that what we'll get?"

"If I lose respect in you – you better believe it."

"…Honest as always, aren't you."

"I am what I am," the ranger shrugged indifferently, starting to slowly pick out his nails with the tip of the dagger.

Adele watched him for some moments, until finally gave up: "You aren't even interested in what she said?"

"Nah, I'm not a curious type. Curiosity kills, they say."

"Is that a hint?"

His glance flickered to her, but the knife didn't stop. "Perhaps."

She cleared her throat, "Listen, Bishop, I'll be blunt – I'm not gathering information on you. To tell honest, I don't give a damn about what happened or is happening to you. Your life is your life, whatever problems you might have…"

"_I_ don't have any problems," he smirked. "_You_ are the one with problems here, princess. So if I were you, I would be careful not to quarrel with those on _your_ side."

Adele felt any nervousness she had being slowly drowned in rising anger. _Is he threatening me? After everything son of a bitch has the gall to _threaten me_?_

"I'm not quarrelling with _anyone_," she ground out. "Unlike you. As a result, it's _me_ who is being cornered and told that Bishop in his spare time likes to catch Luskans in the woods and torture them, which is damn annoying, mind you."

"Ah, _that_'s what she said," the ranger tilted his head to the side, suddenly appearing – of all things - _amused_. "So?"

"…So it's true."

"If yes, then?"

"…What have they done to you exactly?"

"Told you already – just had enough of them."

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much."

"Enough to torture them?" Adele shook her head. "Guess there's something I don't get in this life."

He snorted: "A lot, if your ask me. But don't worry, princess, you are pretty enough to allow yourself being stupid sometimes."

Adele closed her eyes, stopping herself from getting furious. "This all would have been fun, Bishop, if I didn't have a number of people who had agreed to lend their hand and their head to help me out. Their lives and well-being I am responsible for. And whether you like it or not, whether _I_ like it or not – you are one of those people," she looked back straight at him. His face was impenetrable. "So if you have some score with Luskan, if there's some bounty on your damned head – _I need to know_. At least for the sake of _not_ presuming that a bunch of shady guys coming to the 'Flagon' looking for you are just your fellow-smugglers and pointing at your room."

His eyes narrowed, studying her. Adele guessed that this time he was trying to get whether _she_ was threatening him.

"Because I need you," she finished. "Alive."

Of course, there was no sensible reason why he should have even cared. Apart from the reason that she _wanted_ him to. But that was anything but sensible.

Corner of his mouth twitched in a crooked smirk: "Breathe out, princess. No one's going to look for me, I made sure of that. They think I'm dead."

"…So what's the problem, then? And why do you hate them so much?"

"I _don't_ hate them. I wouldn't waste that much effort on them. They just have that… air that makes you _want_ to hurt them. Badly," chink of a smirk became more obvious, more _knowing_… "Don't you think?"

_Do I?_

There was only one answer to that, one _right_ answer, but he gave her no possibility to voice it:

"Let's say I'm just giving the bastards the taste of their own doings. Got sick of them enough during my time in Luskan, now getting my venting – and as sure as Hells don't see why I shouldn't. That's how things work for me - I go where I want, kill who I want, do what I want. And _only_ like that. Malin didn't get that. _Luskans_ didn't get that," he was all but grinning now. "And someone's stupidity always brings up an asshole in me."

He was lying. He _had_ to be lying, otherwise, even half-drunk, Adele couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"…You are colder than I thought," she muttered.

Bishop snorted again, still looking at her, unblinking. "Hope so. And trust me, you haven't seen my depths yet," as she didn't answer, he lowered his gaze back to his hand, picking out the last nail. "And whatever Malin said… just words. She never knew me," slightly narrowed eyes glanced at her briefly. "And neither will you."

"I'm not… for gods sake, I'm not trying to question you or something, I just want to understand-"

Bishop let out a short ragged laugh, cutting her off. "Come on, princess, knock it off already. I'm neither blind nor stupid, so happened. And I had my eyeful of how you schooled others. So the trick is not going to work."

Adele shook her head, baffled: "…Sorry?"

"Why, a special face for everyone, a certain _smile_, precisely the needed words to say…" he cocked his head to his shoulder again. "Soon even the elven smartass will dance to the melody _you_ whistle. Don't think I blame you, no. Considering he was so obviously instructed to keep an eye on you…"

"…Gods, _what_ are you talking about?" she whispered, staring at him unbelievingly.

"About the things I see. Have to admit, even kind of curious what it was you hooked the druidess with, so that she left behind her beloved Mere."

"I never hooked anyone with anything! She's just trying to get what's happening and what it has to do with that silver—"

"Really?" he smirked. "Then why can't she take her eyes off you? She doesn't seem to care for anyone in the world apart from you and those that happen to be close to you at the moment."

"…You are nuts," Adele concluded. "Hands down."

"Am I?" he folded his arms on his chest, his head still tilted, making his gaze even _more_ belittling and derisive. "It seems I gave too much credit to your observancy and wit. But just think about what they _can_, those druids… watching through the eyes of animals, listening through the land… In your shoes I would be much more wary of her than of me."

"Appreciate your concern," Adele grated through set teeth, "but I prefer trusting people. At least can have a decent sleep at night."

He pushed himself off the wall and leaned towards her, holding her gaze. "Well, in that case both you and your buddies are all going to die together someday, and it will be from the blind following the blind," the ranger quirked an eyebrow nonchalantly. "Not that _I _care…"

Adele threw her hands up in frustration: "Then why in the Hells are you even _with_ us?"

"Am I?" Bishop flinched and tucked his knife in the waistband of his breeches, getting up from the bed and coming up to the table - to where a wicker bottle stood. Adele was forced to throw her head a bit back, so that the brims of her hat didn't shade her view. "You know why I'm along. Your uncle called his debt due," with his thumb he pushed the cork off the bottle, filling the nearby glass with muddy-brown ale. "And that's that."

"You could have said 'no'," Adele said, following the glass with her eyes.

"Couldn't," he cut off, staring into space, and for a moment bared his teeth in a snarl before dropping the whole glass of liquid into his mouth. Licking his lips, he measured Adele with a brisk glare. "And you know it."

"Oh, _please_," she hissed scornfully. "To Luskan and back, that was the deal. Afterwards no one forced you last time I checked. It was your decision to work with us in the end. Had _fun_, you said."

He chuckled, a cold rusty sound that seemed to physically scratch down her spinal nerve. "You never got it, did you? You are just the lesser of two evils. By joining you I made sure that your pitiful excuse of a relative won't even _think_ about opening his damned mouth about me owning him something whenever it's convenient for him. Never again," he narrowed his eyes at her, his face as snide as he could make it. "You should know by now how much people like holding on to their leashes, _squire_."

"What in the Nine Hells do you owe him that much? What, you got drunk and set fire to his rafters too?"

"Come now," he smirked wryly. "You can be funnier when you want. And don't worry, as long as I can get my free share of your uncle's booze, earn my money on you and have an excuse to kill someone, I can put up with your family blackmail. For now, at least."

"..."

He refilled the glass: "Got any more stupid questions? Or can I finally get back to sleep?"

…_Son of a bitch… Can't even believe I'm trying to defend him, jumping to his side like a fool, like a…_

…_a she-wolf in mating season… - _her inner voice finished smoothly.

She threw her hand forward, snatching the glass from his fingers, and drained it in one gulp.

"Nice," Bishop grouched. "Now she'll be sitting here and tanking up, our poor offended girl."

Adele put the glass back on the table, carefully, resisting the urge to simply crash it. "I'm not offended," she muttered levelly, not looking at him. "I'm angry."

"Then go and ask the dwarf to organize a brawl for you."

"With whom, with you?"

Bishop rolled his eyes. "Again it's all my fault. Now it is my fault she dragged herself here in the middle of the night, woke me up and started clawing my guts out."

"I'm not… clawing anything! Dammit, I just _want_ to trust you, alright? Come on, ranger, help me here! But no, instead you constantly piss me off!"

"Now there's a surprise. Usually people adore me."

"Well, fuck, that was one cruel sarcasm – seeing as I'm, probably, the only one who would've bothered to… 'drag herself here' and… bother."

"Sounds like _your_ problem."

"Gods, so what, now I must _apologize_ for trying?"

He stared her down with obvious contempt. "You must sleep it through, you drunken fool."

"There! There you go again. What the Hells, Bishop? Why are you constantly trying to insult me? For what? For actually giving a damn whether you live or not?"

The ranger shook his head. "Must be some kind of Farlongs' family disease, giving a damn whether I live or not. Cool down, princess. I'm great. And will be great, no matter what. So I don't need all your ballads of eternal friendship and unending support. You can save them for the demon. She's already too much like a street kitten that'd been kicked and scalded with boiling water for her whole life – so the first one to stroke is the love of her life."

"Watch what you say about my friends, ranger."

"Just the truth, princess."

"No, it isn't truth, it's…" she flailed her hands helplessly, "…it's some kind of turned inside out truth, some other side of it, hideous and…"

"But the truth nonetheless," he flinched. "Damn you, princess, the moment I start thinking you actually have some levelheaded sense in you – you just need to come and prove me wrong."

"Well, seeing how you are enjoying proving _me_ wrong all the time, why can't I give a shot? Since you love the truth so much! Or is the truth only what _you_ are saying – and everything else is just drunken nonsense of a stupid swampwench?" _You are flying off the handle, girly. - Shut up._ "Oh, and the demon has a name, by the way. Neeshka. And the druidess has a name, too – it's Elanee. And guess what, even the _gnome_ has a name!"

"Oooh", Bishop rolled his eyes. "Who cares?"

"Everyone does! Because there are many demons, druids and gnomes in the world. But there's only one Neeshka. One Elanee. And one Grobnar."

"Touching as all Hells."

Her eyes narrowed. "…Screw you, ranger."

"What, I pissed you off again? How? By not entering your Order of the Shining Soul? Well, forgive me, but I don't want to. And I don't _do_ what I don't want to. Keep that in mind – and we'll get along just fine. And if you are not comfortable with it," he presented her with a twisted sneer, "then I don't give a shit."

The woman gritted her teeth, taking a breath, and waved him off. "Great. Fine. Whatever. Forget we even had this conversation."

"Already have."

"Wonderful," she rose from the chair. "What do I care, really. I'm out of here."

"Why, have a seat," the ranger shoved her back, and Adele winced as the chair bottom hit her under the knees, making her legs buckle. She dropped to the stool with enough force to make it sway under her. "We were just getting to know each other."

"I don't give a damn about you."

"Ah, look, now she doesn't," he chuckled. "What if I take offence?"

"You won't - you are emotionally dead. You opened my eyes, thank you. Don't even know how I could… why I…" she tossed her head in irritation. "Shouldn't have come. I regret it already. Gloat if you like."

"Oh I may, may I?" Bishop leaned towards her, propping his one hand on the table and the other – on the back of her chair, making Adele draw back on impulse. He smirked at her backing off, golden laughing sparks filling his eyes. "Why are we suddenly so nervous? You came here by yourself, all alone."

"Don't flatter yourself," she spat out, folding her arms. "I'm not afraid of you."

"I'm not saying you are. But you never even thought how it might look like," he leaned closer, carnivorous smirk still curving his lips, gleams of candlelight dancing in his pupils, making them look like they were melting. "Careful, princess, someone may decide we are lovers."

She couldn't hold back a snort. "No one in their sane mind will decide something like that."

"Seeing that for the most time you and I are the only ones in their sane mind around… Rumors might appear. Your uncle will get upset. And we don't want to upset him," he lifted his brow mockingly, bringing himself even closer, and whispered: "Or do we?"

Adele knew that if she leaned back further, the chair would have to balance on two legs, unstable, dangerous… but she did, slowly, smiling at the ranger's lewdness. Tossing back and forth suggestive banalities with him was a known ground, familiar and almost welcomed in its risk – at least, more welcomed than diving deeper.

"And why do I have a feeling you'll keep bringing my uncle up for the nearest fifty years at the very least?" she murmured softly.

"You need to _live_ that long to find out, princess – and you are not coping well so far."

She smiled again, coldly, relaxing her back against the chair. _Go ahead, bastard, closer – and my knee will get precisely to where you don't want it to be_.

"We'll see," she purred, hooding her eyes.

Bishop _did_ move closer, just a bit, and Adele smiled wider, throwing up her bended leg. But the ranger – catching sight of her starting movement or guessing it was to come beforehand – slammed his hand over her thigh, stopping the kick.

"So you like it rough, little princess?" he growled, his voice gradually loosing vocal sound at every word, turning to that already familiar metal-like rustle that made her skin crawl. "Or just so damn sure nothing ever happens to you?"

With the other hand, lightning-quick, he grabbed her belt with the scabbard, tearing it off and tossing away, at the same time drawing her leg aside and dropping to his knees. It all happened so fast that before Adele even knew she was left unarmed and trapped against the chair with Bishop between her hips, his eyes still boring deeply into hers.

"…Damn," she breathed out, staring at him wide-eyed and unable to get rid of the grin frozen on her face.

"Ah, what's the matter?" he mocked, taking hold of both her legs under the knees to pull the woman off the chair, to which she clutched so hard her fingers ached.

"Let me go," she demanded through clenched teeth, without any luck trying to free her legs from his hold.

"Why would I."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's right, princess," he purred softly, giving up attempts at dragging her to the floor, instead leaning forward again, gripping the back of the chair and nearly flatting the woman against it with his body. She wasn't sure if it was the force of his drive that left her breathless – or his voice so close to her ear: "You ain't _sleeping_ with me."

She drew in a lungful of air, gaping into space, the only thought hammering in her scull (_he won't dare, he won't dare, hewontdare!_) shattered mercilessly as the ranger threw off her hat and tore down the wattled leather stripe holding her hair, letting all of it come down to her shoulders in one tangled mass. Adele hissed, jerking away from his face burrowing into her neck, but to no avail, shuddering at his triumphant chuckle sizzling over her skin.

_You are so screwed, __darling._

_Literally._

_And don't say you didn't have it coming._

Letting go of the chair, she punched her hands into Bishop's chest to push him away, clumsily, her fingers slipping on his bare skin, only drawing an approving grumble from the bastard right into her neck. She shut her eyes, doing her best not to groan, and forced her palms to move, hating the trickling wish to pause on every inch, to feel every damned scar that got under her fingertips, instead making her way lower, a bit to the right, hoping only he had forgotten…

He hadn't, as she sensed him stop, tense, his arm shifting to intercept her hand – but she won this round, able to snatch the handle of the knife he had left tucked into his waistband, drawing the blade free without bothering if she cut him or no and threw all her weight on him, dropping the ranger to his back, and straddled him with his knife at his throat. He lifted his chin slightly, not taking narrowed darkened eyes from her face, his own expression motionless, fixed, but she saw his Adam's-apple rise and fall as he swallowed.

Adele smiled.

"No."

His lips twitched in a wry smirk. "Wanted to be on top?" his hands, still lying on her legs, slid up from the knees. "Could've just said."

"What I _said_ is 'no'. Or are you deaf?"

"No, I'm not, that's the thing," the thumbs took a bit different direction, tracing the inner sides of her thighs. "And I have a secret for you, princess. Sometimes you talk in your sleep."

It was her turn to swallow. Adele tightened the grip on the blade, to hide that her fingers were shaking.

Bishop sniggered vengefully. "Now there's a stupid face."

"Shut up," she growled.

"Or what?"

She pushed the knife into his neck, pressing the skin, making him throw his head back, but not enough to take his eyes away from hers. In return his palms squeezed her thighs harder, thumbs drawing lazy circles on the inner sides, higher, higher…

"Come now, princess," he all but purred. "You _are_ curious. Besides, you might as well get hanged pretty soon – and I won't even get a possibility to see the famous scar."

Her mouth cringed in-between a smile and a grimace. "Need to remind myself to write my last will – that you are not to be allowed to my corpse and that I want to be cremated."

"Ah, and here comes her tongue, as sharp and merciless as her cold silver heart."

"…Shut up," she breathed out soundlessly, for a second averting her eyes from his.

That second was enough. His hand shot up to the knife, shackling around her wrist and wrenching it away, fingers digging right into the bite marks he knew were there, with force enough to make her squeak. Another arm wrapped around the woman, pushing her off of him to the floor, followed by Bishop himself when he rolled over, crushing her under him and letting go of her waist to catch her free hand, hitching up both her palms over her head. Adele tried to squirm away, but his hold was sure, his strength far greater than hers, enough for him to gather both her wrists in one hand, and she only snarled when his fingers worked her fist open.

"It's _my_ knife," he whispered, taking the dagger from her undone grasp, and suddenly thrust it into the planks of the floor just near her shoulder, almost making her start. His burning eyes were half-lidded, and Adele couldn't quite decipher what was in them – desire or hatred. Perhaps, it was both. "I _don't like_ it when people touch my things, princess."

"Oh, _do_ forgive me," she hissed, doing her best to recover her breath and break free.

He praised her feeble attempts with another condescending smirk, his free hand going over her hair, her cheek, tip of his finger brushing firmly over her lips…

"I think I'll console myself quite quickly."

"Quickly?" she couldn't help but sneer up at him. "My, I _knew_ there are many reasons why I don't want to. Maybe you don't even need _me_ for that?"

He chuckled, shudder of his chest ricocheting through her body. "You _are_ stupid, aren't you, brave little girl?"

"Or maybe I just don't tumble with smugglers."

"Now why?" his grip on her wrists tightened. "Too good, eh?"

Adele gnashed her teeth, making another spurt to yank her hands free, but still in vain – only her skin started to ache in his hold. Under her jerkin the tunic clung to sweated skin, breathing was becoming harder and harder to work out, as if the air had to force it's way through debris in her throat and lungs, the weight of the ranger's body was doing no good as well.

"Let me go," she grated.

"If you want out so badly, why don't you simply scream, hmm?" his quiet voice seemed to seep into her very pores.

_Damn… Why don't I?_

_Oh, __for the same reasons _he_ didn't hit you, didn't shut your mouth, didn't tie you or something – even though he can_, - Adele never though that the inner voice could have actual _breathing_ as well. – _Because all of those ruin the duel._

_And if I scream – he wins?_

"So?" Bishop quirked his eyebrow slightly, the candlelight rimming his skin and hair with copper. "I'm sure your paladin would hear your screams even from another plane, rush in and quarter me on spot."

"He's not _my_ paladin," the woman replied hoarsely. "He's his own."

"Aw," another scoffing smirk twisted his face. "A nerve there, eh?"

"…Just let me go," her voice was totally gone.

"Why?"

"Because I ask you to."

Bishop grinned. "What, you thought you can come in the middle of the night, wake the man, stir him up and then simply leave?" he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Such women have a name, princess."

"Those men that force a woman to the floor have a name as well," she smiled thinly. "But I forgive you. Let me go."

"Now, now, don't be so quick," his raised his brows scornfully, still smirking. "Maybe it'll encourage me to become a better man."

"I highly doubt that human nature can be changed that easily."

"You know humans so well, don't you… you _half-breed_?"

"…Oh great, I forgot you are a racist on top of everything."

"I am what I am. On top of _you_."

His hand traced her neck, collarbone, cleavage, stomach, leg, and the shivers on her skin tamely followed his fingers…

_He'll dare... He'll dare anything just to prove whatever the Hells he thinks he should..._

"What?" she croaked. "Even no kissy-kissy for the sake of pretence on decency?"

Bishop smirked, running his tongue over the inner side of his bottom lip, hard enough to point out the tiny scar there - scar _she_ had given him back in the Duskwood - and Adele only growled in disappointment.

"I learn my lessons," he muttered.

Adele never thought she would find herself envying Qara. It would have been so sweet, indeed, just to blast him with enough force to spew his pieces all over the walls. But since her own skills were limited only to _her_, she had to get out another way.

The woman cleared her throat, trying not to pay attention to his hand that drew a circle over her bended knee and moved up her tight again, this time from the inner side.

"Stop it, Bishop…" she whispered softly, even managing to squeeze out a nervous smile. "Please, it's ridiculous. You are just angry, annoyed, I... I understand," his eyes narrowed - whether in resentment or amusement, she couldn't tell. "I shouldn't have come and pestered you, I know. I'm sorry. Really. I just… just had one drink too many… Or two. Or three," her voice broke, eyes snapping wide, as she realized that the hand _indeed_ didn't meant to stop. "No, you…! Come on, you won't rape a woman just because she…!"

Adele never finished, as the sharp, nearly painful spasm of pleasure cramped her whole body, arching it to meet the ranger's fingers, her eyes rolling closed, all the words tumbling and merging into one hoarse groan…

"Will I have to?" Bishop murmured.

_Damn, he__ knows what he's doing,_ - inner voice cooed, nothing but a purring puddle somewhere in the far corner of her mind. _– And he's doing it good._

"I hate you," she breathed out, unable to open her eyes.

"Don't give a crap," he answered just as quietly, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, and Adele had to bit hard into her lip not to whimper when his hand resumed its moving, slowly making its way under her jerkin, towards the strings holding her breeches...

_For gods sake, this is __stupid. Just stupid... What do I do?_

_You__? __You don't have to do anything, he'll do it all..._

She was suddenly aware that Bishop had let her wrists go for the sake of sliding his arm under her waist, lifting her slightly off the floor - but it didn't help her in any way, because even being free her hands were still out of her control. Instead of grabbing the ranger's head and twisting until his neck breaks, they fumbled helplessly over the floor, her fingers trembling, grasping air, crawling, touching something...

Adele opened her eyes, realizing she tapped the thrown away scabbard-belt. Metal coldness of her rapier's hilt sobered her up a bit, and the woman gripped it tighter, using her fingertips to push off the sheath, while her other hand slithered into Bishop's hair.

"Let me go," she whispered once again, lastly, smirking, this time almost wishing he would not.

His answer were his teeth closing on her skin right between her neck and shoulder, biting softly into flesh, and Adele felt her lids growing heavy again, crawling over her eyes, her legs nearly aching from the wish... the _need_ to wrap around his hips...

Clenching her fist in his hair, she yanked his head back, at the same moment sliding the blade under his chin, placing it firmly between herself and his throat. It took him a moment to focus his gaze on her face, eyes burning, seeming almost inflamed, and she grinned, realizing that no way in the Nine Hells could he possibly be unaffected by his own game. For several heartbeats they were just staring at each other, both breathings equally haggard, until a familiar twisted smirk slowly made its way back to Bishop's lips.

"You bitch," he whispered.

"I am," she agreed evenly. "When I'm forced to."

"What, you can simply kill an unarmed man?"

She glared up at him, the weight of his body still pinning her to the floor, all the disgusting absurdity of what was going on just a moment before finally reaching her fogged brain. "For something like this? Easily."

Smirk became wider, gloating. "Now that would have added grey hairs to my head, if only for a second I believed all your 'let's all be friends' crap".

"I'm good towards people - until they are begging for otherwise."

"And how again had I displeased Your Highness?" smirk turned to a sneer. "Almost made you come?"

"Let go!"

He loosened his grip on her, and Adele slowly crawled out from under him, keeping her blade ready and trying not to pay attention how cold was the air after his body's heat. Bishop sat, elbowing lazily on his knees, still aroused, still breathing heavily, but none of it stopped him from watching the woman picking up her hat and hair fillet, her suspicious gaze firmly on him.

"Very well," she took a deep breath, taking several steps to the door, back first, and placed her free hand over the knob. "And now I'm going to the corridor - and Karnwyr will _not_ jump on me. Right?"

"How should I know? Take a try."

Pursing her lips, Adele flung the door open, and the wolf immediately dashed inside, almost knocking her down on his way to his master. Chuckling, Bishop ruffled Karnwyr's fur and got up to his feet, heading towards Adele. She backed off from the room, further into comforting and somewhat secure muffled noise coming from downstairs, and lifted her blade again.

"Just want to close the door after you, princess," he snorted.

"How should I know?"

Bishop nodded, propping his hand against the doorframe. "See? Now you are learning. Wasn't that hard, was it."

His face was back to its usual deadpan derisive expression, as if nothing happened, as if he simply accomplished some trivial goal, not had a woman running away from under him in the worst time possible.

_How the Hells is he doing it? Why__ better __than__ me__?_

The ranger cocked his head to the side: "Weren't you leaving, hmm?"

Adele lifted her chin stubbornly: "Feeling gracious today - so give you an opportunity to apologize."

"For what?"

"Oh, you know, it's kind of traditional to apologize for nearly breaking arms of a defenseless woman."

He flinched with a chuckle. "Come now. You are as defenseless as a rattlesnake. It was _me_ who nearly got his throat sliced twice - for the first time even with my own knife. So don't give me this offended shit, I'm not buying."

She shook her head, slowly. "Really, is there _any_ reason I should not finish what I started and kill you?"

"That you may fail? And you are not _that_ stupid as to think I'll give you another chance, are you," he dropped his shoulder to the door-post, folding his arms. "Princess, you know the reason of your anger as well as I do. At least, I have faith in your brain to that extend. So if by chance you'll finally get tired of rearing up at my every word and decide to relax - you know where to find me."

Adele smiled thinly, taking another step away from the door. "Aw, you sweet lovely, to trouble yourself over me so much. I'll keep it in mind, of course, but I simply can't bring myself to burden you so. But if _you_ suddenly decide to... don't know... bring some tea to the girl, say for a change something pleasant and encouraging - you know where to find _me_."

"I prefer set prices in gold."

"Yeah, I, too, always thought that a woman is worth exactly the price she asks for herself."

He grinned: "In other words, you are worth a cup of tea and a couple of bullshit sweetnesses? I'm even disappointed."

"No, it's how much my gratitude is worth. Isn't it nice to know a woman can be grateful to you?" her smile turned icy. "And not even faking it to earn your coin."

Bishop chuckled again, this time approving. "Nice one. Maybe you and the elf are actually going to make it through the whole trial blabbing."

"...Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well, thanks for that at least. Any support from you is already an ecstasy. Good night. Sorry again for disturbing your sleep," she allowed herself another snide smile. "It'll never happen again, I promise," Adele arched her brow. "Any more harsh truths of life I should know?"

He looked like he wanted to answer something, like another caustic response was already on the tip of his tongue - but instead paused, looking at her strangely. Then - he laughed, quietly, as if unwittingly, sending shivers down her back. It was such a rare thing, his sincere laughter, that it just had to put her on guard.

"What?" Adele demanded.

"Nothing," he swallowed another chuckle, but kept smiling. "You just have Hells know what on your head right now."

The woman gnashed her teeth. "Thank you for pointing that out."

"You asked," he shrugged, squinting one eye to appraise her. "Makes you look like infuriated skunk."

Adele stared at him mutely for several heartbeats, then spread her hands helplessly: "And what was _that_, can you tell me? Ah, no, no need, I remembered. It was the truth," her eyes narrowed. "Thank you so much again."

"Anytime," he smirked. "Always a pleasure."

And shut the door.

Adele screwed her eyes, keeping herself from kicking the door, turned around sharply and took off, her hand on instinct going to her hair to sleek it.

_Y__eeees, that was one mighty talk, -_ the voice inside quipped supportively.

She winced, quickening her stride for her thoughts not to catch up with her, every step brisk and hard enough to nearly leave a hole in the floor. Reaching her room, the woman locked the door behind her and, without lighting a candle, started to undress hastily, inwardly muttering all known curses - and even inventing new ones on the way. Tearing the clothes down, she kicked it all to the nearest chair in one messy bundle, taking a step towards her bed - but stopped, glaring at her reflection in the dark glass of the window. Truly, there _was_ Hells know what on her head. Tousled hair, that hateful white-and-black mane that _indeed_ made her look like infuriated skunk, fell freely down her naked shoulders and back. In the darkness her pale skin was nearly glowing white, making her narrowed dark-blue eyes look like empty black crevices on her face, veiled with anger, annoyance... and something else. Something that she didn't feel like admitting.

She not only felt - she _saw_ the goosebumps rising on her skin. Goosebumps caused by the chilly air in the unused room... or by the memory of his hands over her.

It was never like this. Never. With all the men she ever had, be that for one night or several, it was nice. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes passionate. Feisty. Alluring. Even adventurous. But never like _this_. Never with the feeling of her mere blood-vessels melting in the scorching blood, with her breathing hitching so badly it was close to sobs, with the pulse pounding so hard in the temples her mind was wavering, with her heart trying to hammer its way through her chest...

Never like this. And she used to be damn _proud_ of it. Even in the most heated moments something inside always kept cool. Detached. Uninvolved. Almost not-here. Almost... Daeghun.

_But __even Daeghun _had_ been married… So, perhaps, no one can keep a cold head _all_ the time…_

_No__, _- she cut off firmly, her fingers without her knowing scratching over the ugly white line that sliced its crooked way through the underside of her left breast, fading only between the ribs. - _Not because of _him_. Not at _his_ ground. _

Maybe Bishop was right when saying that a half-elf always wants to prove something...

_Bishop seems to be right too often, no?_

Her hand fell from her chest, hanging limply along her side.

When did it happen? When exactly was the cursed moment the bloody bastard's opinion suddenly started to matter?

_It doesn't. Don't be silly, Delly. No one's opinion ever mattered. __In the long run, _no one_ ever mattered. And he doesn't either._

Yet here she was, staring at her own reflection, pale naked figure shivering in the frame of the window sash. Shivering not because of cold, no...

...because some foolish crazy part of her _wanted_ him to come, to bash the door in, grab her, now, without any ammunition, clothes, without any weapon she'd be tempted to use, and take her - on the floor, on the bed, on the table, on the windowsill, on any other surface in the world - to break that damned pride of hers over his knee, to let it out of her like one would let bad blood out of the infested wound...

_I'm going insane, ain't I?_

…

_I'm just drunk. And __hadn't got laid in some time. That's that. _

With much effort, but Adele finally made herself look away and sank to the bed, worming under the blanket, wrapping it firmly around her body.

_Funny. O__ne glance at the guy's naked chest, and I have a full-head crush,_ - closing her eyes, she snorted quietly. - _And here I honestly thought I was deeper than that..._

* * *

He heard her leaving.

With his forehead pressed to the door, his eyes closed, he heard her every step. Even without seeing it, by the mere sound, Bishop could picture her walking. Stamping her feet as if trying to dig her heels into the ground. That furious sharp angle to her left brow. Rigid line of pursed thin lips. Small tight dimples on her cheeks.

He didn't even realize how well he studied her by now.

Small wonder, though. Idiot is the hunter who thinks he can succeed without knowing the terrain _and_ the prey perfectly.

And it was the hunter in him that couldn't listen idly to the sound of his game leaving, urged him to follow, to chase, to overtake, to corner... and what? Fuck her? Kill her? Fuck her, then kill her? Kill her, _then_ fuck her?

At this point, all variants seemed equally tempting.

Turning away from the door, Bishop leaned his back to it and slowly dropped to sit on the floor, not trying to open his eyes just yet. It was enough that his face muscles seemed to grow numb from keeping straight expression, although the twitching tic in his cheek was already threatening to break through.

It's been awhile he had been this furious. And didn't enjoy it in the slightest. Of course, he knew the bitch was cheeky beyond her scrawny ass, but for her to poke her nose to where it didn't belong so bluntly, even to have the balls to come and _question_ him... somehow he didn't consider it.

_Were too busy considering that scrawny ass in your hands, eh?_

Bishop cringed, slowly shifting his jaw, even strangely enjoying the sound of his teeth gradually scratching against each other. The feeling was reflective of his mood, after all. He made a slip, a mistake, and had no one else to blame but himself. Hunted, yes, but she was no dumb animal – with people there was always a possibility they would try to learn the hunter as well.

It seemed that in the perfect planned tie 'him-her-Duncan' he had to pay more attention to the 'her' part.

He smirked.

Perhaps he had gone too far tonight. Still, he knew the wench would hardly involve someone else in it. She had too much pride to swallow to admit she couldn't handle something coming her way, so she won't open her mouth to any of her 'buddies'. Which, to think about it, was for his benefit. The more little 'secrets' he shared with her, the better. After all, she _did_ come to him already. Alone. Without wanting anyone to know. So it seemed he made some progress.

Soothed enough, he opened his eyes, glancing at Karnwyr. The wolf stood motionless, only turned his head slightly as he tentatively sniffed the air. Bishop knew that, concentrating enough, he would be able to feel the echo of smells through his companion's senses - but he didn't even need to. It was still on his skin. Scent of sour mist and hazelnut, so much sharper from both her anger and arousal.

If only she knew how good she looked – and _felt_ - when angered... With blood flushing her pale skin, darkened eyes, pupils dilated so much they almost took over her iris, curved parted lips, breasts heaving in breathing, hair flying around her face… Made him wonder if she looked much different when fucking. Not that it was hard to imagine, with her long lithe snake-like body writhing under him...

Bishop took a breath, letting the air out in a grim chuckle. She had no idea how close he had been to losing it. After all, he was no saint when it came to raping women. Back in Luskan, sent on numerous tracking jobs to find and bring back some escapee, after days of traipsing through the wilds on those forced and therefore hateful chases, finally catching up with his target and finding it to be female... Surely, he had always been strictly forbidden to apply any everlasting physical damage to the target – which pretty much left him with the only option of paying her back for all the trouble she had brought him. It had nothing to do with lust, ever, just a mean of relieving his frustration by breaking down someone else, something he had long since replaced with using his carving, threading and skinning skills on Luskans themselves...

And it was exactly _this_ that left him furious. That with just a bunch of questions and her fucking stubbornness the bitch managed to push him to the same line. The feeling he thought he had got rid off.

_I swear, one day you'll sweat senseless paying it all of__f, princess…_

Karnwyr frowned at him, probably at the expression of his face. Bishop smirked again, reaching out to mess the wolf's fur.

"Just need to play our cards more carefully from now on, boy," he murmured. "Wouldn't want Duncan's sweet darling off the hook, eh?"

The wolf sniffed indifferently, trotting off towards the empty bed and leaping on it, intending to take advantage of a soft place while he could. The ranger's smirk widened at the memory of his companion tearing into the girl's arm. Hadn't stopped her. It seemed that opposition only strengthened her resolve.

_You are not the only one in it, princess._

But for now he had more _pressing_ issues, in all senses. His body demanded release, and he surely didn't feel like working it out single-handedly. Yet if his guesses about a couple of women downstairs were correct, he wouldn't have to.

Still, even _that_ would have to wait – he had another big-mouthed pointy-eared bitch to track down.

_The__n again,_ - he mulled over, getting up and reaching for his clothes and gear, - _I might always make both ends meet there._

"Don't get too comfortable," he warned Karnwyr, tugging on his tunic and clasping the sword-belt around his waist. The wolf just rolled his eyes, turning to the side and stretching out his legs in bliss. "…Asshole."

…Bishop made his way to the hall quickly, nearly jogging down the stairs. As much as he calmed himself outwardly, inside his blood still raged, whipping him up. He didn't have to go much further, thankfully, spotting his target already there, near the exit, talking to the innkeeper. Full-dressed, full-armored. Fleeing, like a gutless rat she was.

"Checking out already, Malin?" he wondered, coming up to her from behind. She didn't jump, had more nerve than that, but it was no small satisfaction seeing her back growing rigid, as if expecting a stab any moment. "So soon?"

"…It's never too soon," she muttered, keeping her tone neutral, without turning to him even when he propped himself against the table with one arm right at her side. "What do you want, Bishop?"

"From _you_? Me? Of course nothing," he smirked at the half-elf's frozen profile, his eyes swiftly travelling over her cheekbone, ear, down the neck. It was stuffy in the tavern, so she kept her armour unclasped at the throat. _Stupid_. "But I might know someone who does."

She shot him one glance, unbelieving, suspicious.

"Come now, Malin, with Moire gone, I don't think you are in position to throw away job offers."

She didn't change in the face, still guarded: "Why would _you_ be so generous?"

Bishop allowed himself a meaningful sneer: "Well, since I'm already… engaged in many interesting activities by my current… employer, I can't take the offer. But got to keep some old contacts and all. Unless, of course, you screw it up. But I have faith that you are not that incompetent. _No one_ is."

The half-blood didn't answer at once, regarding him with the same mistrust – but, at least, regarding. _Never thought I can be useful to you, eh, before ratting me out at every stop?_

"Somehow I doubt that anything coming from you is of any interest to me," she concluded, picking up her bag and heading for the door.

"Come on, Malin," he nearly begged, following her between the tables. Her limping was faint, but there. Wounded left shin. Just below the knee. The gloves were tucked in her belt, which meant she'd put them on outside - and thus keep her both hands occupied. _Hells, girl, and I thought years had taught you something…_ "Help me out. For the sake of good-old times."

She snorted, pushing the door into the crisp windy night, the air heavy and moist with the sky swelling with the upcoming rain. "Whoever said that time with you was good?"

Bishop chuckled, not bothered by the chill biting into his skin through the tunic and pants. More so, he almost welcomed it. Some cooling down was good. "Funny. I remember _you_ did. Not just saying, but whispering, groaning, yelling…"

She didn't turn, but he could almost hear the gnashing of her teeth, as she quickened her pace down the stairs, into the alley, away from the torchlight, reaching for her gloves…

"I don't wan-"

It didn't take much - a boot to her damaged leg, sweeping her up before she fell, one hold just below the ribcage to squeeze the air out of her and to pin both her arms before she could grab her short sword, the other hand shoving away the quiver and the bag off her back, going to the throat. She tried to elbow him in the stomach, of course, but froze stark still as she felt his fingers pressing into her carotid.

"Shh," Bishop forced her back to his chest, his gaze quickly sweeping over the alley, not wasting his time to look at her face. The frantic pulse under his fingertips told him all he wanted to know.

She felt his inspecting and, deciding he was occupied, tried to squirm away. Bishop cringed, hitting her hard in the temple with his jaw.

"Don't piss me off, Malin," he growled, dragging her deeper into the shadows. "You did a great job of that already."

She took a deep breath, clasps of her leathers scraping over his arm as she did. The pulse race didn't cease, though. Bishop could smell her fear, acrid on her skin.

Nothing like the heady fury the swampwench exuded. A shame.

"So what do you want now?" she tried sounding cold and demanding – except that the artery couldn't lie.

"Now?" he clasped his hand a bit tighter around her throat. "Now you'll explain me something, Malin. Tell me, what did I do to you exactly, hmm? Killed you? Crippled you? Or whatever it was that gave you the right to go around pestering my present company with your opinion on me?"

Her neck tightened for a moment of realization. Bishop smirked in the darkness.

"Should have suspected she would tell you right away," the girl whispered with a bitter chuckle. "Should have known you have her wrapped around your finger already."

"Not yet, sweetheart, but I'm working on it. And you are _surely_ not helping."

"Who is she? What do you want from her?"

"Doesn't matter," his voice dropped to whisper as well, as he lowered his head to her ear, running the tip of his nose over its lobe. "Guess I just have a sweet tooth for you, half-breeds."

She shivered - but instead of finding it exciting, he felt only disgust. It was a shiver of fright again, weak and revolting, her body limp and quavering in his grasp. All the thoughts he entertained about bedding her were gone in an instant. Just imagining this jellyfish lying under him like a corpse was enough for bile to rise in his throat.

Besides, she was a known territory. He long since explored her every inch, every rise and fall, learnt it by heart, crawled over it.

Boring.

"So what was it, Malin?" he went on, digging his fingers into her neck. "In what way did I hurt you so badly you can't shut up about it, hmm? I simply left. Didn't stalk you, did I? Didn't interfere with your pathetic existence. Don't even remember a single time I bothered to get in your way after we split up. But the moment you see me you decide to stick into my business," she jerked, choking, and he had to loosen his grip on her throat. Unwillingly. "So who's the backstabber here, eh?"

"…You won't do it," she croaked. "You won't get away with it."

"Really?" he snorted quietly. "Won't I? With the harbor this close? And, really, who would notice a _ranger_ gone missing? And especially _you_?"

She was silent, her carotid jumping like mad – and for a moment simply snapping her neck felt like a right thing. But it meant losing control. And he was a king of control, after all.

_But you can't deny some fools are just __asking for being killed…_

He unwrapped his hands, letting her go, and she staggered away, almost losing her ground from unexpectedness, gasping for air, blindly grabbing her weapon, on instinct – but Bishop already stepped far out of her reach.

"Don't let this happen again, Malin," he coldly instructed her bended neck as she tried in vain to cough out the stiffness in her throat. "Mind your business. And let others mind only their own," he smirked. "Like I do."

She glanced up, her face shadowed by her fringe, eyes wet.

"You sick crazy bastard," she whispered. "I hope someone will bring you down one day, like a rabid dog you are."

Bishop snickered: "No way it will be you, Malin, so drop it. Makes you look even more pitiful than you are," he narrowed his eyes at her, still smirking. "And I really hope _not_ to see any of you any time soon. Or at all. Can you manage?"

Whatever she had to say, he didn't stay to listen, turning away and heading back for the tavern. She was never that amusing, anyway.

Still, he took the backdoor, returning through the kitchen, without any wish to make Falgor get curious. The night was yet young, the uproar didn't cease, and there was no way any of the kitchen-girls would drop their work to keep him company. Bishop went straight to the common room, suppressing a flinch when spotting some of the freak-circus still up as well. The half-witted gnome even waved a hand at him. He didn't acknowledge.

The whore was at the bar, washing down the taste of the previous client and casting her eyes around for another one. Not exactly the freshest type, tall and lean, with her hair bleached to nearly white, her face so expertly painted that one could never guess her age - anything between twenty and sixty, really. Still, she wasn't the pretty doll pretending to be exotic in darned laces and stitched silks they served at brothels. Neither was she of those sad hungry ghosts that wandered the dock streets, looking like miserable ill-fated puppies begging for being drowned. She was used, yes, but not worn down – more like a piece of good leather that only grows stronger and smoother over the years. A wench that knew what she was good at and long ago stepped over any guilt or discomfort about her craft. Bishop always had some kind of dry respect for such whores. As a professional for a professional.

She noticed him coming up and was quick to smile. Not bad looking either, which was always a bonus.

"Hey, handsome," she crooned. "Buy me a drink?"

"How about I just pay you, and you buy anything you want?"

She sniggered, settling back on the bar stand to appraise him: "Tough guy, huh? Very well, but it's twice the price on the street. Just so you know. Kinda cold today."

"Got a room upstairs."

"Ah, you are a sweet one."

He couldn't hold back a smirk, letting her lead the way. What was not to like about whores? Always straight to the business. And you got exactly what you were paying for. No bullshit.

He slowed a step, though – just one – when passing the swampwench door, for a heartbeat wondering if she was asleep, what it would be like going into her room, into her bed, into _her_ – but shoved those thoughts away. He would have his time, just not now.

And besides, in the end the chase always appeared to be better than the catch.

"Oh sweet," the whore commented upon entering the room, seeing the wolf lying on the bed. "I'm not exactly into-"

Bishop grinned, holding the door opened and nodding to Karnwyr. "He's leaving, don't fret."

The wolf obeyed, shooting him one grim 'you-traitor' glare, trotting out of the room, and the ranger let go of the door, allowing it to close slowly on the old hinges. His every muscle was already humming in anticipation, but he allowed himself twisted amusement of watching the wench play the obligatory seductive role. Hells, by this moment she could be a hag, and he would still screw her.

But she wasn't. Pretty enough. Especially when let her hair down. The light of the dying candle was playing a pleasing trick with her face, making it look younger and smoother, sending long shadows over her wavy mane, entangling in it, dark enough to block out half of its dyed paleness.

With his eyes lidded, it almost looked like there were black locks among white ones.

"No," he said as she headed towards the bed, his voice thick. "On the floor."

* * *

...She woke up much later than intended. And with much more pains. Nearly forcing herself out of the bed and doing at least a little bit to make herself look presentable, Adele packed her things and crawled down to the main hall, honestly hoping to hide that she didn't have enough sleep after all… and that she had a hangover.

The ground floor looked much more deserted than the previous night. Still, Elanee was already there, at the table, with Shandra and Marcus. Adele forced a crooked half-smile at the druidess - which surely didn't fool her, pained as it was – but Elanee only sighed and turned back to the boy, making sure he ate properly. It seemed that his paleness and thinness didn't give her a moment of peace. Adele's smile at Shandra was much more sincere, with the blonde woman propping her heavy head with her hands and rolling her eyes with just as tortured expression.

"Finally," Adele cringed at Sand's voice coming from the door. The elf never had been so loud. "Good morning, my dear. Or should I say good day?"

"I'm happy to see you too, Sand," she muttered, stealing a glance at the bar, the dryness in her mouth demanding for something to be poured over it. "What, am I the last one?"

"Surprised?" the wizard lifted his brows. "Yes, everyone else is up and ready for yet another tiresome journey."

"That's… nice," she murmured, holding back a smirk at Shandra's look, gestured towards bartender and gazed down at Marcus. "Are you up for a travel?"

The boy glanced up at her in return, as always making her insides crawl with cold at the uncanny deep blackness of his eyes. It was probably shameful and as sure as Hells not _nice_ towards the child, but Adele realized she would be very happy to finally get rid of him and his gut-scanning stare.

"Of course," Marcus nodded, getting back to his meals.

"…Good," Adele leaned her elbow on the bar, smiling at Sand. "See? You can safely gather everyone else up."

"Me?" the elf shook his head in resentment, but left, muttering something in Elven.

"_You_ are the most energetic here," Shandra called after him, but not loud enough, her face flinching in pain when she tried raising her voice. Just as much as Adele's when the latter swallowed a chuckle.

_Damn, we'll get butchered by a bunch of kobolds in this state._

_Well,_ I_'ll get. _

She took a glass of water from the bartended. A big glass, which was a blessing in itself. Taking an according gulp, she lowered her lids in pleasure.

_Now that's much better._

_Not good enough for three days of journey, but a start at least._

_I should really get easy on drinking._

_Really._

Adele suddenly noticed Shandra's look shifting to something behind her back and turning even more sour. The woman herself didn't move, didn't turn, only feeling the goosebumps prickling on back of her neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end. She knew well by now what it meant. What was she to do if it was the way her body chose to react to his gaze and his presence nearby?

"Still sulking, Your Highness?" Bishop whispered to her ear.

"Nah, too much honor for you," she murmured, swaying the glass in her hand and looking straight ahead. "It brings you too much pleasure, making others sulk."

"And you'd sooner crawl out of your skin than bring pleasure to me, wouldn't you," even from the sound of his whisper it was obvious he was smirking. Adele licked the corner of her mouth, feeling shivers making their way down from the neck along her spine.

"Really, don't count on me."

"What, even never complained to anyone about me?"

"No need," she smiled. "I can handle you, ranger."

His quiet chuckle touched her earlobe with warmth, and Adele barely suppressed a shudder. "I am all anticipation."

She had no time to answer as he passed her, carelessly (or carefully) brushing his shoulder against hers:

"Alright, packing up and leaving if we want to cover some ground before nightfall."

Shandra looked back at Adele, raising her brows in silent question. Adele only rolled her eyes expressively and shook her head, draining the glass…


	30. XXX: Ins and Outs

_A/N: Oh my, do you see it, too? It's an update! Shh, don't spook it ;)))_

_Am still not totally pleased with the chappie – but, I guess, if I don't post it finally, I never will :|_

* * *

**XXX: **Ins and Outs

Admitting his decision to be wrong was a rare occasion for Sand. And an unpleasant one. Even more so when he weighed all pros and cons – and according to every bit of logic the pros were leading – but still somehow it did not work in the end.

Just like now, as he watched the blade of the girl's rapier swish in a horizontal arc, barely missing one of his shelves, he could not help but doubt that bringing her to the shop was a good idea.

On one hand, of course it _was_. With the trial getting closer and closer, citizens of fair Neverwinter started showing too much unhealthy curiosity as to who the notorious accused was. Gods knew how, but soon rumors of her staying at the 'Sunken Flagon' spread like forest fire, to the point that even Duncan wasn't happy about the amount of 'customers' piling in with hopes to get at least a glimpse of his ill-fated niece. Needless to say the niece in question became snappy like a dry twig. At first shutting down the establishment 'until further notice' seemed like a way out – but, really, once the target was already spotted, hardly anything could keep gawkers away.

Instead of wasting his time trying to put out a fire, Sand just took away the source of the flames and dragged young lady Farlong across the street to his place. Wizard's aura and whispers of deadly traps he kept on his shop (not totally false, actually) worked better than any doors and shutters. Keeping the girl away from her motley crew was an added bonus. After all, he wanted her undivided attention, without having to interrupt their sessions for his client to chitchat with one of her endless companions. Not to mention the ranger. That one didn't even have to open his mouth – the moment he stepped into the room he totally stole the spotlight of the girl's perception.

_Kids and their most inconvenient crushes._

On the other hand, there was a thing Sand did not take into consideration (_should have_, _but did not_) – that undivided attention would not necessarily be centered on _him_. Right at the moment he was miserably losing to martial practice held in the middle of his front room.

"Did you give any thoughts to the witnesses?" he wondered.

"Witnesses of what?" was the reply, while the blade made another intricate path in the air. Sand raked an irritated hand through Jaral's fur, the cat curled in his lap. "There's only Alaine and Marcus. We have the latter, Luskans have the first."

"Witnesses of _you_, my dear," he flinched. "And for Mystra's shining eyes, just sit down, I beg you."

Adele stopped, with her hand stretched onwards, her rapier continuing the perfect straight line of her arm. Smiled, disarmingly. Charming creature, indeed, but in wizard's opinion she tended to misplace her charm too often. "Come on, Sand, I won't break anything. And it helps me concentrate. You know, when the body is occupied, mind works better."

And a liar.

It wasn't about concentration. Just as long as she was doing something else, she could let the thoughts of the trial pass by without taking them seriously. As if her mere reluctance was able to turn the whole thing into a joke.

Yet again Sand had to remind himself that, despite Adele's looks and behaviour, he was dealing with a child. She could appear a reasonable grown-up woman to humans, and her upbringing probably forced her to become self-reliant and rational very quickly, - but in half-elven years was still a child. And a _stubborn_ child at that. Not the kind to throw tantrums at every turn to prove her point, no – she'd smile, nod, agree with you, and go on doing things her way.

In any other case Sand might have even found that admirable. But not in this one, where he was the person to deal with it.

"Just sit. Your method of concentration distracts _me_."

She shrugged, but obediently slid into the chair on the opposite side of the table, straightening her back and placing her hands on her knees, her rapier clutched snugly between them. Smiled again. Perfect picture of school-like obedience, little mocker. "Am all yours. What witnesses were you talking about, anyway? Like… to prove my alibi or something?"

"We have no way of proving your alibi," Sand pointed out, scratching behind Jaral's ear. The cat purred monotonously in approval. The elf always found that relaxing. "The exact time of destruction of Ember is unknown. Both Alaine, wandering Duskwood for time unnamed before coming to Port Llast, and Marcus, sitting for ages in that well, are very confused when it comes to particular dates. As it stands now, you and your companions were the last ones passing Ember before its tragic fate. Apart from _real_ murderers, of course."

"Then any of my companions is a witness - that nothing happened and nothing I did."

"That is true," Sand smirked, "but the things is – indirectly any of them is also a suspect. An accomplice," for whatever reason the word elicited a mirthless chuckle out of the girl, but other than that she didn't object. "We need people to assert your reliability. Those who can help us state that in no way you are even capable of anything _near_ the thing you are accused of."

"…And that still leaves any of my companions. At least, I'd like to hope so."

"But we need witnesses that are trustworthy both for the court and the audience," Adele slowly arched an insulted brow, and Sand shrugged. "With all my respect, but if to reason carefully, who can vouch for you? A deserter-paladin with a record of his own, a thief with demon blood, an overly-temperamental dwarf with problems of keeping his fists to himself, a sorceress-girl thrown out of the Academy by her own father…"

"…Father?" she echoed.

"Oh yes, her father is one of the Masters of the Academy. And the mere fact of even him resorting to such drastic measures in the end can state plenty about his daughter," he shook his head, having no wish to dwell further on the annoying subject and give the girl a reason to stray away into the whole 'dad-n-daughter' line of thoughts, which was obviously one of her 'favourites'. "I think you get my meaning. Who else do we have? Miss Jerro I do not trust in the sense of being able to emotionally and mentally endure interrogation by Torio. Druids are known to show little to no interest in humans and their settlements – so the testimony of our dear Elanee can appear doubtful as well. And I don't even mention a shady individual with a clearly culpable past who, on top of everything, doesn't go under his real name," the girl smirked, slumping herself back in the chair, tapping her rapier on the floor. Sand sighed, spreading his hands. "I suppose we do not consider Grobnar, unless our aim is to drive the whole courtroom raving mad."

Adele didn't answer at once, looking into space and still smirking darkly, then chuckled again: "Dammit, you do have a way to persuade, Sand. It appears no one can vouch for me, then," her smirk turned to a grin. "And with a company like that it's a wonder I _haven't_ butchered Ember."

"…I have to say, the sneer you are wearing right now is in itself enough to make one wonder. Mark it and forget it, I don't want to see you sporting it in the courtroom," she rolled her eyes, but nevertheless banished the smirk. At least she was listening to him. "And - yes, your words were exactly what I was implying. Or should I better put, what Torio would imply were we to bring any of your companions forward."

"What about the Watch, then? Any of the command?"

"The same story. The reputation of the Watch within the city is tarnished at best. Even their brilliant upstart, their ray of light in the darkness, their all-around-wonderful and heroic lieutenant of the Docks ended up being accused of mass-murder."

"…I love you, Sand, have I already said that today?"

"Not in the last hours, no."

"My, I must have had a reason for that, huh?" with a heavy sigh she buried herself deeper into the armchair, crossing her legs and placing her rapier flat on her knees, her fingers absently tracing the windings of the hilt. No matter what she was doing, it seemed she couldn't part with her weapon. Scared? Nervous?_ She has all the rights to be… but is she? Looks more like she is not even _here_, but in some other place, doing something else, where having a weapon at hand is very much desirable. _"Very well, my dear lawyer, since you chose to thoroughly destroy all my suggestions, that should mean you have your own?"

At that Sand just had to smile. A stubborn child, yes, but at least a smart one.

"I do. Even two, in fact. Callum to assert your reliability and-"

"…Who again?"

"Callum," Sand repeated dryly, almost unbelieving. "One of Neverwinter Nine, commander of Old Owl Well?"

"…Ah, that one," she grinned, relaxing. "Forgot all about him."

He felt torn between amused and terrified. "Indeed? Just like that? You did a tremendous service – if not favour – to one of the Nine, and then you forgot about it?"

The girl – for all the gods – _shrugged_. "Well, I didn't know back then I'll end up in the courtroom…"

"But you _never_ know, my dear. That's the point. So never forget those who can be of use later."

"Oh yeah," Adele grinned again. "What I need, alright – my own blackmailing list."

Sand lowered his lids a bit so that it would be easier to roll his eyes. "Blackmailing. Who ever talked about blackmailing? Truly, it'll never cease to amaze me how people tend to dismiss simple _gratitude. _While a truly grateful person doesn't even need to be blackmailed – he'll do nearly anything for you and remain pleased at the end," her smile was in place, but turned skeptic. "Yes, he will. Otherwise Callum would have never said it is his _duty and honour_ to help clearing you of this… how he put it… 'outrageous dirt the rats ditched upon you'. And surely the merchant from Port Llast wouldn't be making a way on her own right to Neverwinter to testify in your favour," disbelief was gone, replaced by puzzlement, and Sand didn't bother to hide a smile. He knew very few pleasures that were greater than appearing right. "_Eager_ to help, if I might add."

"Nya? What in the Hells can _she_ testify about?"

"Why, your generous and helpful character, of course. Taking time and trouble to put the dead of Ember to rest."

"But I didn't do it to-"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that she is _sincere_. We get a witness, she gets a possibility to pay you back for your help. It's a win-win, really. With the right calculations, possessing a 'generous and helpful character' can turn out very profitable."

The girl looked like she wanted to object, but thought better of it and only flailed her hand in a defeated 'do-what-you-want', chuckling grimly: "Still, I'm almost sure that what you said is somehow disgusting."

"Please, my dear, just don't go all morality priestess on me. If any of our churches truly believed that, none of them would have had that fine golden embroidery on their altar shrouds. Disgusting – is a massacre carried out with a single purpose to accuse one girl of it, all we do is acting accordingly."

That wasn't single purpose, of course, not even the main one; at least he didn't believe that. It probably also served as a distraction. From what of Garius' occupations specifically, and what was the girl's part in it, Sand couldn't tell. Yet. But he didn't need to be shoved into something face-first to realize that the 'something' in question was happening. All the talks about the King of Shadows, and Nasher taking almost personal interest in seeing young lady Farlong alive and well, not to mention a particular piece of weaponry the girl was carrying in her ribcage… That last one even made Sand suspect that the affair with bringing Adele to Luskan was fueled with the aim of not only serving their variant of justice, but also getting her body and its contents into their possession. Of course Sand didn't know the whole picture (_again - yet_), knew probably even less than Nevalle and Nasher – but the pieces on their own were enough for his intuition to flood him with both nauseating and exhilarating (and nearly-forgotten) feeling that he was tapering at the borders of something _big_. The trial they were being through was merely a tiny thing in the whole. It won't end anything and won't start anything, for things _had_ already started and were long way from their pinnacle yet.

Sand could feel the vortex. And as much as some part of him grew fond of calm incognito life here at the outskirts of Neverwinter, he knew well enough that his talents were not meant to rust in the backroom of a drug-shop. Terrible waste otherwise. So already now he was nurturing the thoughts of hinting Nevalle how his further closeness to the newest squire could benefit everyone. Sticking with her was the best way. He didn't posses any recklessness to rush into the tide of things, certainly not, always left that to others, but being in the first row of the sidelines was another story. Perfect position to turn the flow if possible without being washed away with it – and, who knows, to fish something useful out of the flood.

Of course, first and foremost for that even to happen he needed to make sure the girl stayed safe and clear of the whole mass-murder nonsense. Which he knew he would do. No matter what anyone thought about his methods and treatment of witnesses. He long since learned that most people had the breadth of views of an earthworm, and the wizard possessed neither patience nor a shovel large enough to broaden their horizons at every turn point.

_Although I can hardly be accused of the lack of trying…_

His musings were interrupted that very moment, when Jaral, feeling neglected, cast an irritated glare on the hand lying limply on his back and arched his spine into it, demanding for stroking to continue. Sand complied (the cat was always hard to deny) and collected himself, coming back to reality and his client. Whom he found looking at him with strange curiosity, clearly for some time already, her head propped with her slender hand, lips curling in a smile. Sand tried to remember if he had said anything funny, but could not.

"…Yes," he muttered, annoyed with himself for losing track of his own monologue. "What was I about?"

Adele moved her shoulder in a slow shrug, her smile growing wider: "Really, Sand, presuming to know what you were going to say would be extremely self-confident of me, wouldn't it?"

"Why, you shameless little sycophant," he grouched, leaning forward to reach for his notes on the table and to give some stretch to his spine at the same time. "Go on, go on."

She snickered, and Sand couldn't help it, starting to smile as well even while scanning through the records. All the reason and calculations aside, he still had at least one motive to pull the trial through - he came to like Duncan's kid.

"Very well, if we are through with Callum, Nya, who else can we have?"

"Kistrel? She seemed to be fond of me."

"…My, you are a fountain of humour today, aren't you. Even _my_ talent won't be sufficient to explain how getting along with giant spiders makes you a trustworthy and innocent individual."

"But at least it'll be quite a show."

"Let's save it for the celebration, after we win."

"And if we won't?"

"Tsk".

"No, seriously."

Sand cast his eyes up from the notes. The girl was sitting in the same position, propping her head, her legs curled under her, free hand on her rapier, watching him… only now there was something tense in the whole coil of her body.

_How did Grobnar put it? A spring, yes, that'll break loose if you press it the wrong way or wind too tight. _

He knew she was scared. Had to be. But it put him a little off, not _seeing_ any fear in her eyes. Adele watched him closely, dark cobalt of her eyes attentive, almost expectant – but not scared.

_What are you up to? _

"My dear…" he started softly, but she cut him off with a quick smile, sharp and thin.

"Yeah, I know. We will, of course, blah-blah-blah. But it can also happen that we won't. You have to admit that there is such a possibility," she arched her brow questioningly. Sand chose to remain silent, not arguing, but not agreeing as well – not before he could gather where she was leading to. "It's not that I don't trust you – I obviously do, sitting here and all…"

"You don't have a choice in that," he smiled dryly.

"Uh-huh. Sure I don't," she chuckled just as dryly. "Come on, Sand, we both know I could pack my things and hit the road. Not that I didn't get any advice to do just that," from the way she shifted in her spot, her lashes lowering a bit, eyes growing even darker, Sand suddenly had a very good idea of _who_ was the source of that suggestion. But, again, didn't say a word, only suppressed a sigh. "Yet here I am. Because I do want to pull it off the… right way, without anything left hanging. It's just sort off… stressing, thinking that there's only one way to go. I need to know there's a back door. For the sake of knowing."

_And here I am. Caught._

This time a sigh did escape his lips, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tiredly. Adele smiled again, clearly intending for this smile to be a _nice_ one, but it didn't work, not after her words. Sand had his suspicious how much, despite her reassurance of the opposite, she didn't like handing him the reigns. It wasn't about trust, in that he believed her - but she wanted a choice. Would have preferred to be able to deal with the situation on her own.

_But you cannot, my dear. That is what annoys you so._

Not for the first time Sand thought that behind the brittle sheet of silky friendliness and easy charm, somewhere deep inside Adele Farlong was a very forceful and autocratic woman. A trait unsurprising for her heritage, of course; not to forget the upbringing that probably forged vague wish into adamant need. In some sense her stubbornness, elusiveness, resourcefulness, even her overbearing _niceness_ grew from that one and only root – to have things her way.

The very reason he didn't intent on telling her all the possibilities.

Feeling his unwillingness, she threw herself back in the chair, raising her hands, her smile growing to a full-blossomed childish grin: "I'm not saying I'll change the course. Just need to be sure we have a back-up plan. You know, not the type where I'm diving into the ocean to escape the ship already on its way to Luskan. I don't swim that well under shower of arrows."

"We _have_ a back-up plan, my dear" he admitted stiffly, "but it'd be so much wiser of you to finally pay _serious_ attention to the one we are trying to play out right now."

"I do. Honestly," another grin, bringing up a wish to slap some sense into her. "But what if something happens to you?"

"Pardon me?"

"Torio hires an assassin or something. I'll be screwed without you. You can't really expect me to stay so dependant?"

Sand glanced helplessly at Jaral. Logical reason. He had no cards to beat that one.

"Very well. There is a… certain tradition among Tyrrans that we can use as an appeal if losing," he capitulated, rubbing his nose. "It is called a 'Trial by Combat'. Champions of both the accused and the accuser face each other in a duel, with the case being solved in favour of the winner. But that is-"

"Wait-wait-wait," her eyes narrowed, fingers making another caressing slide over the hilt of her rapier – before closing over it in a tight grip. Yet her voice remained steely calm: "Are you saying that all this time all I needed to do was beat someone they put against me – and I'm innocent?"

…_And that reaction is _exactly_ why I didn't bring it up._

"De juro – yes," he admitted as evenly as he could. Which he could. "De facto?" Sand gave her a thoroughly disappointed grimace. "Really, my dear, how do you expect to dissolve an accusation of act of violence with yet another act of violence? Surely, on paper you'll be innocent, and Luskans won't be able to get hold of you – but to people of Neverwinter the mere fact may not be _convincing_ enough. Stated, but not _proved_. And since I want to save not only your life, but reputation as well, I'll resort to mutilation only if there's no other way."

…_Not to mention that Nasher is so liable to crowd opinion. And it has already cost us Aribeth once._

"…M'kay," she said just as calmly, if not airily, but with her eyes still narrowed and dark, enough for the elf not to believe her lightness this time. Or at all. "Did say I trust you, didn't I."

_Is that a question?_

He let it slide.

"Besides," the wizard added instead with a smile, "when it comes to people and audience, you have a weapon much more potent and large-scale than your blade - yourself."

She didn't answer, still watching him, making Sand feel like he had lost points in some game and was now allowed to try and retake them. Not a pleasant feeling.

"Really, my dear, you are _likeable._" _And you know it_, he added in his mind, as her face held nothing of surprise or modest confusion, just an accepting, if a little annoyed, smirk. "And it doesn't take much from you to be, which is a valuable trait the nature blessed you with. So I think you'll be your own best character's witness."

"If you say so," Adele shrugged with the same unwavering phlegm. _Truly, does she expect me to feel guilty for not allowing her to stab someone? _"As long as you are not saying it just in attempt to hit on me."

That was sudden and, were it not for a held-back grin he could read in the line of her mouth, would have been awkward. But she did smile, so Sand simply waved her off: "Oh believe me, you are fully protected from that by being ten times younger and – forgive me my selective honesty - not fully an elf."

"Meh, figures," she whined jokingly. "So much for me being likeable, then."

Much to his own surprise Sand nearly laughed. "Not now and not like this, of course. We'll clean you up, dress you in something pretty, take away your weapon – yes, we _will_ – and you'll be a picture of innocence. Add to _that_ your charm and my expertise, and no court will hold."

"So you do the talking, I do the looking, eh?"

"Roughly speaking, yes. Although I doubt Torio will miss an opportunity to take you apart while questioning. But that's nothing you can't handle. All the more startling in comparison to your timid looks."

"Fine, I'll play the flower pot," she held her hands up, all easy and sweet again. "But I won't wear a dress."

"You don't expect I'll let you wear your usual rags, do you?"

"Seriously, Sand, I'll be standing there forced to prove to the whole city I'm not a camel. I'm not gonna make it worse by constant fear I'm going to trip over the skirt and fall on my face."

"At least buy a _new_ tunic, then."

"Okay. A pretty one. With laces."

"And hemstitch."

"What's that?"

"…It's pretty."

"…Fine, whatever. And I'll leave the audience guessing how in the Hells was I able to become a Watch lieutenant and deal with a whole orc tribe, being so fluffy and all."

"A bit of mystery won't hurt."

"That was sarcasm."

"I know, and I've intentionally missed it," he presented her with a small wry smile to which she rolled her eyes. "There's no need of us to purposefully accentuate any of your… most harsh endeavors. Just a tad of right highlights, and you are a lamb. Leave in the shadows everything questionable, like your run-ins with the githyanki, or orcish bloodbath, or your drow heritage…"

"My _what_?"

"Must say you are lucky there, pale skin is enough to confuse anybody…"

"What are you talking about? I don't _have_ any drow heritage!"

Sand stared. Adele stared in return. This time, there _was_ fear in her eyes, but the elf didn't find it relieving.

…_Impossible. No. Oh all the gods above, there's no way she couldn't have _known_…_

On the other hand, he came to realize, why not? No one ever discussed it. He had presumed it was mostly because the topic was hardly pleasant – but the possibility she didn't _know_… That unnatural white in her hair, and her eerie empathy with spiders, and the way her pupils glowed red in darkness… How on the face of Toril no one ever noticed…?

"Your darkvision," he drawled calmly. "What is it like?"

"Huh?" eyes still empty, uncomprehending.

_Come on, dear, snap out of it._

"When you switch to seeing in the low lighting, what does it look like?"

"I…" she shook her head. "The usual. Warm things are red, cold things are dark," the girl trailed off at the expression of his face and flinched: "Not right, huh?"

"That's not darkvision, that's thermovision. Innate for some outsider beings and races that spend their lives in darkness of caves and underground…"

"…like drow," she muttered and dropped her head into her hands, furiously rubbing her scalp through the mane of hair. "Fuck."

Sand carefully observed her every move, cautious of any signs of panic or hysterics. It was the last thing they needed. The fact that he was partly to be blamed for the possible outburst didn't help his easiness either.

"How comes you never knew?" he asked carefully, evenly, doing his best to channel his calmness to the girl.

"I… I don't know," she murmured into her palms. Chuckled. "Never really walked around poking others and asking what _their_ darkvision looked like. I just… presumed it was like that for everyone."

He nodded. Understandable. Just like he presumed he couldn't be the only one to figure.

_I should stop thinking too high of others._

"Drow…" Adele heaved a sigh, straightening in her chair, a smirk on her lips that had nothing to do with fun. "Well, I'll be damned. Way to go, Mom."

Sand could think of other much cruder possibilities for a human woman to get impregnated with a drow child – but from the haunted look on the girl's face he guessed she knew it too. Was simply struggling not to crawl into a ball of miserable self-pity. Noticing him staring, she stared back, her eyes like dark empty holes on the paleness of her face. Looking at her right now, it was easy to forget that colours even existed.

It were moments like this when the wizard wondered if he regretted his long eroded ability to empathize or was actually relieved not to have one.

"I need a drink," Adele finally concluded, tearing her eyes away from him and darting them around the room.

"While I need you sober."

"Sorry, Sand, but in the nearest half an hour I can't bring myself to give a shit about what _you_ need," another cold sparse smirk. "Just saying."

He could argue, of course, but found no wish to. So only pointed deeper into the room: "Behind the folding screen, dark wood sideboard. Some of them are old and strong, so don't go too hard on them."

She wandered off into the direction of his small but cherished collection of wines, her moves scant and jagged, as if every muscle in her body was strained, until disappeared behind the screen. Sand didn't move, turning all ears, following every shuffle and rustle and (he winced) clatter of glass.

"Makes sense," her words caught him off guard, making wince yet again from sheer unexpectedness. He heard a smile in her words, but not a good one. "I mean, with the hair and all. Never saw anyone have 'em so damned _white_. Like albino. And the skin, you know, when I get a bit of tan… it's not brown or pink, it's grey. _Shit_," another clatter, followed by a harsh chuckle. "First a lump of sword I've been carrying around for year, now this… how could I be so fucking _blind_?"

Sand kept silent, knowing perfectly well she didn't really need any answer from him, while his pragmatic self tried to guess how much time they would lose on this unplanned breakdown – and how much bottles would it cost him. He'd put her to sleep with a simple spell if it did any better, but that was highly unlikely and still time-consuming. The wizard looked at the girl's rapier left lying in the chair, then lowered his eyes to Jaral.

"Well, my friend," he murmured, rubbing the soft fur on the underside of cat's jaw, "so far this 'private discussion' business turned out to be a total disaster, don't you think?"

Jaral blinked lazily in agreement, measured the distance between his master's lap and the far corner where Adele was having her little eye-to-eye with their sideboard, then jumped to the floor – not before snaking his whole body in a way that allowed him to scratch the most of his back over Sand's fingers. The elf had his doubts whether Adele Farlong was the type of woman to be calmed and softened by a purring furball rubbing against her calves, but let Jaral give a try.

_At least it won't hurt,_ - he reasoned, a little suspicious of the silence from behind the screen. Not that he expected to hear sobs, but… - _That's the whole thing. I simply don't know what to expect of her. At all._

The bell at the door gave a melodic ring, announcing the visitor, and Sand didn't bother to hide his irritation as he glanced at the tiefling sneaking in from the street, a heavily-loaded tray balancing in her hands.

"Door-to-door delivery!" she beamed at him, ignoring his displeasure. "Duncan figured you two could use a dinner. Said _you_ can starve over your case all you want, but he won't let Del being dragged into it as well. She's tearfully scrawny as it is."

"How very thoughtful of him," Sand drawled, giving the tray but a dismissive peek. "Should I also believe that your eavesdropping on our conversation and then passing it over to him was not among his ideas?"

"Nope, that one is totally my own," Neeshka served the plates quickly and deftly, like a swindler dealing cards, all the while grinning and glancing around. "So, where's Del, what did you do to her?"

"What _could_ I do to her?"

"Dunno, you could kill her and hide her body under the floor planks. You short and quiet types are always weird."

"I'm over here, Neesh," came Adele's voice, with a tint of laughter that Sand considered sincere enough. At least it sounded like that.

"Damn you, wizard, you buried her alive!" the thief gasped. "You okay there, honey? Should I fetch Stumpy?"

"I'm fine," she said, and in any other place and time Sand would have actually believed her. The girl could be a singer, so accurately she hit all the right notes and tones with her voice. "Want a drink?"

"No, she doesn't, she's leaving," the wizard seeped out, staring pointedly at the tiefling. Neeshka grimaced. "You'll have her at your disposal in the evening, for now we have more important things to deal with."

"Gee, Sand, don't get yourself a stroke over it," the rogue grumbled.

"Come on, we can spare a couple of minutes, I'm sure," Adele stepped back into the room, with Jaral sprawled on the berth of her crossed arms, a glass snuggled between her fingers – and a smile feeling just as comfortable on her face. Whatever transformation had occurred behind the screen, it was worth it.

"Very well, I give up," he sighed, playing along. "But if you get executed, you'll have only yourself to blame."

"I'll keep it in mind," her smile grew wider, not shining – _blinding_.

The two girls slipped away into the back of the room, discussing whatever they thought was that much significant, the tiefling easily led by her still smiling friend. If Adele needed that for a distraction, he was more than glad to provide. Although, ruffling through the papers and stealing occasional glances at the girls, half-drow smiling, half-demon shaking head, he couldn't help but wonder who of them was distracting whom. Even as the latter finally turned away to leave, the former kept smiling.

"I would be easier if you said why the Hells you even need that much," the tiefling grumbled at the threshold, making Sand pause in his studies.

"I will. Later. Can't I have a secret from you, guys?"

"Bah."

"Wow, you already sound like Khelgar, you know that?"

Neeshka presented her with a sour scowl and left. Sand expected Adele's easiness to vanish that very moment the front door closed behind her friend – but no, the girl quietly snickered and patted Jaral on the head before placing him carefully on the nearest counter together with the glass of wine.

"What was that about?" the wizard wondered, both a bit curious and testing her moods.

"Nothing, really, just a little favour I asked of her," she stretched languidly, pausing to kneed the back of her neck to relieve the tension. Or, perhaps, buying time not to face Sand straight away. "Look, could we just…" a flippant scissor-like gesture with her fingers, "cut out the last part of our conversation and… revelations – and stick back to trial business."

"And Mystra heard my prayers," Sand commented, spreading inviting arms to the armchair she used to occupy.

_Noted: as balanced and predictable as a crossbow with broken safety latch. _

Adele slid into the chair. Smiled.

_Enough to make any lawyer apoplectic._

* * *

Del seemed okay. More important – confident. Whatever the Hells that sleazy slip of an elf was doing, he was obviously doing it good.

But that was _Del_. And if there was anything Neeshka came to know about her, is that Del would be _dying_ with the most confident look. And 'I'm fine' would probably be her last words.

Standing at the stairs to the wizard's shop, Neeshka felt her tail twitching under the cloak. Keeping calm was something she was never good at. Let Sand and the like be 'the thinkers', she was always a do-er. And no way she could even force herself to sit idly while her friend was in danger.

Damn, she didn't have that much friends to go and throw them around like that.

Skipping down the stairs, the tiefling glanced at the sun and shadows, estimating the time of day, and took a turn away from the 'Flagon' across the street. Surely Duncan was waiting for her to come back with news, but at the moment Neeshka could risk his peace of mind. Crossing several blocks under the cover of low roofs and tents, the rogue dove back into the light of a small dusty barren.

Even in the coldness of late autumn, the sand and ground here kept much of warmth from the sun during the day. Mostly to the comfort of a bunch of street kids that spent their time here, playing pebbles and chasing each other in the dirt. Open air, wind from the docks and ever-present mud made them all look the same over the time – sunburned peeling faces, grimy hair, colourless clothes, chipped dirty nails and sore feet that were lucky to have a pair of threaded-down shoes. Worn in turn anyway.

It was a small world inside a larger one, with its own rules and hierarchy, the world she used to be a part of. But now she was a grown-up, and felt alien, so didn't spend much time observing the kids, just enough to spot the one she was looking for.

The tall dark-haired boy of ten (although his sunken cheeks made him look older) wasn't playing. He kept aside, taking place under the shade to watch over others, absently carving something out of a slice of wood with an old kitchen knife. Carefully sharpened, as Neeshka noticed.

"Hey, Wolf," she settled at his side.

"Hey, horn-head," he echoed, measuring her with a sullen stare. "Not a chance I pass any of your greetings to Leldon anymore. His piss is already boiling, so I ain't game. Came to like my head where it is."

"Ah, forget about Leldon," Neeshka couldn't hold back a grin, but at least was able to banish it quickly. "Say, how are you about earning some coin? Aaaand I'm almost sure I can arrange a couple of dinners at the 'Flagon' for you and your guys. Maybe even a place to sleep."

Wolf frowned: "Too good to be true, horn-head. What do you want?"

"Just some… sneaking around. Any of you happen to be near Castle Never?"

"Dori sometimes helps at the kitchens there. Why?"

"I need to know the quarters of Luskan Embassy. All ins and outs and stuff."

"What, planning a break-in?" the boy sniffed.

"Nope, more like a… possible break-_out_."

"…It's about that Watch-lass you're hanging around with? Heard about the trial."

"Know her?"

"Not really. Some of the lads saw her. Said she's tough. In a good way. Nailed Moire, too, so…" he sighed, squinting at Neeshka. "And you _can_ have a talk with ol' Duncan? Think he'd agree to take us in from time to time?"

"That Watch-lass is his _niece_, Wolf. You help her, he'll damn adopt you all. I mean, look at me, living all packed up."

Wolf gave a whistle, putting aside his knife and woodcraft. "Now that's something. Alrighty, I'll a pass a word around, tell Dori and others to do some stumbling around the castle. But none of them is risking their necks, hear me?"

"Wouldn't want that myself, partner. Only, you know, keep it quiet," she winked at him. "Like you, guys, can."

The boy gave her a cocky lopsided grin, just the grin that in five-six years would be able to drop a lot of girls on their backs. Hells, Neeshka couldn't even promise she won't be among them.

"Deal, horn-head. Keeping our tails low."

Neeshka grinned as well, rising from the ground. Now it felt better. Like she was doing something useful. Or, rather, something that could turn useful, were things to become drastic. She was sure it won't take much to get Stumpy to her side. Some of the others, too. And if Del suddenly got into Luskans' hands, she wouldn't stay there for long.

"Never thought I'd be helping someone from the Watch," Wolf chuckled.

"Neither did I," the tiefling smiled at the sun. "But, y'know, good stuff comes to good guys."

Now back to the 'Flagon', to pass Duncan a word that Del was, of course, _fine _– and pack some more things she has asked Neeshka to sell before the trial begins.

Tymora only knew why in the Nine Hells Del needed ten thousands all of a sudden.


	31. XXXI: Snakedance 1

_A/N: At first wanted the whole trial-part to go as one big chapter, but it seems sort of too clustered. So breaking it in two. Hopefully, the second one is soon to come :)_

* * *

**XXXI:** Snakedance (part one)

Laces were a bitch.

_Serves you right. Maybe you'll start thinking _before_ doing. For a change._

Adele peered right into the eyes of her reflection, the tall figure even thinner than usual, with arms ridiculously twisted backwards in attempts (so far vain) to lace the back of the corset. Were it someone else, she would have grinned.

So she did.

_Just shut up, will you._

Craning her neck back as much as possible, the woman glared down two rows of stitched eyelets meant for the lace. Not from her vantage point, neither by touch it seemed particularly difficult to catch them all. But when it came to actual lacing the process resulted in some skewed horror.

Adele couldn't even blame her nervously shaking hands for that. Because they were not shaking. Quite the opposite, she woke up surprisingly calm this morning. So uncannily calm, that spent a good half an hour in bed trying to wind herself up on purpose. It didn't feel right, being so serene on the Trial day. Even the early morning breakfast in the company of people constantly throwing worried glances at her and doing their best (_too obvious best_) to keep the spirits high didn't falter her, only brought some sort of detached amusement. Like she was observing a badly performed play that had nothing to do with her, but sympathized with the tortured actors too much to bash the show.

_Maybe just a trick of my mind. It got so overwhelmed with worries that simply closed down._

_Want to suck a problem out of your thumb? Ask Delly how._

_Thought I told you to shut up. You are not helping, - _she fingered the eyelets, bracing herself for another attempt to guide the lace through all the loops. – _Could surely use some helping, though._

Qara seemed like the most reasonable option, since the particular corset was her choice. Adele hadn't plan on any at first, hoping to escape with only a fancy new tunic – but after seeing herself in silken muslin the woman decided that if she was to fall into that chasm at any rate, she might as well do it with pomp. Not having any experience with corsets, she resorted to Qara's expertise, since out of all of her companions the sorceress was the only one who shared some past with female noble attires. It took a bit of asking and a lot of pleading for the girl to agree to lend her help in shopping, and after hours of fitting parlors and endless 'too peasant', 'too slutty' and 'are you kidding me?' calibrations Adele ended up with this particular piece.

She had to admit it was good, soft suede of deep-gray with silver embroidery did look both respectable and not too gaudy. Besides, she found its combination with white silk of the tunic to even fit her stupid half-coloured hair.

_Half-_drow_ hair…_

Adele blinked, looking at her reflection almost curiously. Nothing. Even _that_ thought, haunting her for the last several days, didn't bring up a single emotion.

_Yep, definitely closed down._

_Or the damned corset forced everything else out of me. And I haven't even laced it yet, _- she grinned_. – Not sure I ever will, at this rate._

Giving up, she let the loose laces fall down along her spine, turning away from the mirror and coming back to bed, almost falling to sit on it. Shoving her hand into the depths of her bedside table, she fished out a flask of wine stashed away for those nights she couldn't fall asleep. After Ember such nights happened more and more often.

_That's that,_ - she concluded, taking a sip. – _I just need a good sleep. After the trial is over, I'll make sure to fetch some sleeping draught from Sand and conk out for several days. Like Hells anyone's going to wake me up._

She heard footsteps in the corridor and hastily hid the flask away, barely managing to suck up last drops from her lips not to spill any on the new tunic. Sand wouldn't appreciate her drinking on such a day. Though the footsteps seemed too heavy for a slender elf. Neither did it fit Grobnar. Or any of the female part of her band. Or Bishop, with his ever-silent gait. Not that she saw much of Bishop as of late, the ranger was mostly absent after they returned to Neverwinter and dumped their loot to the merchants. Was probably drinking and whoring away his share of income. Adele didn't care. At least she hoped she didn't.

_Though he would definitely know how to handle a corset, eh?_

Half-grinning half-scowling Adele strode towards the door, opening it and sparing the newcomer a knock. Casavir stopped mid-step, obviously a bit taken aback by her sudden appearance. In both meanings of the word.

"I heard you," she smiled.

"The convoy from the castle is here," he informed her without any formalities, then held up a plate covered with napkin. "Duncan thought you might want to take a bite. We weren't sure you are ready yet."

"I am, just had some… technical problems," she chuckled, lifting her eyes up from the plate to glance over his shoulder down the corridor, towards the kitchen. Duncan wasn't there, just one of the street kids he started to feed as of late was watching them curiously, nibbling at an apple. Adele didn't know where all these children came from – probably some of Neeshka's buddies – but chose to start locking her room. Just in case. "I take it you got the short straw, then? About who's going to check whether I hung myself on scabbard belt or something?"

She expected him to avoid the answer or choose to ignore the joke, as he usually did, but Casavir surprised her, admitting with a soft shrug: "In a sense. It was mutually decided that I have the most calm face to bring you out."

Adele snorted, stepping back into the room. "Any chance you know how to lace a corset? That'll be more helpful at the moment."

"You mean as in…" he glanced at her back. "Ah, I see. Technical problems, these are?"

"Yep. Wouldn't want the shine and pride of Neverwinter Watch to look like an overworked dock harlot too worn down to bother about her outfit, would we?"

"I guess not," Casavir examined the laces, then made an indistinct gesture: "Pull up your hair, I'll see what I can do."

Adele obeyed, gathering all the heap of her hair into her hands and lifting it up to the top of her head, stealing a glance at the mirror to watch the paladin. He seemed to be on a quest of surprising her today, dropping to one knee and switching to the laces with the same confident calculating carefulness he cut down orcs with. She was severely tempted to make some sort of comment about how he was the last man she expected to be skilled in handling female garments – but found herself unable to. After all, he couldn't be a paladin for his whole life. And even if he was, that set no particular restrictions on his relations with women as far as she knew.

But those logical assumptions were pure theory up to this moment. Only now, seeing him so calmly engaged in such a trivial yet in some way intimate act, without any armor or weapon at hand, she came to realize that he is actually… what, human?

_Oh gee, human. Brilliant. Of course he is human, what else?_

_No, not human… A man._

Adele smiled, cocking her head to the side to get a better view in the mirror. Indeed, right now it was easy to believe how some women could easily go all cow-eyed on him. Not like on some embodiment of stupid bookish concepts of chivalry and other shiny crap that had nothing to do with reality of everyday life, but like on a man with rough character and firm beliefs – yet with soft patience and gentle hands…

"It's not about face," she murmured, making him look up to meet her eyes in the mirror. "You _are_ calm. About the Trial."

"I've seen many trials, being a servant of Tyr. At some point you start viewing it as only a procedure, one of many. Not necessarily a final one, too." _Oh boy, __**and**__ he's being cynical. Totally decided to blow up my world today_. "That's not to say I try to belittle your case, of course. But your ground is sounder than many, you'll see it through, I'm sure."

_Like you did?_

Sand's words buzzed in the back of her memory, about the paladin having a record of his own. She would've thought twice about bringing it up in any other situation, but this weird… _accessibility_ Casavir was showing today, without any shields of codes and commonplace percepts, encouraged her.

"Sounds like you have some first-hand experience."

He looked at her for a moment longer then went back to the task at hand, breaking their eye-contact.

"Sounds like you already know the answer," his voice was blank.

"I might. But I'd prefer to learn about it from you, not from street gossips."

That was a nasty move, one Adele was perfectly aware of. But no regret or guilt accompanied it - her absence of emotions for the day included those as well.

"I… killed a man," he said finally, slowly, making the woman arch her brow in wonder.

"I killed a lot of men."

"That was different. He was just a fellow, misled into believing I… was guilty of something I wasn't. He attacked, and I was forced to protect myself. Exceeding of self-defense, as the accusation stood. I was found innocent."

"…Were you?"

A bitter smile came to his face, a smile of someone who spent too much time mulling over that very question. "The man is dead by my hand. I do not think such notion as 'innocence' even exists for a happening like that. But," he shrugged, twining his fingers too carefully into the laces, pulling them just a tad too strong, almost making Adele wince, "my higher command and the court decided that such a… _misstep _for a soldier of good record and good faith is something that can be overlooked. Especially with the war at hand."

_Good for them,_ - she almost felt like saying, but bit her tongue. Thought about voicing something encouraging instead, about how he shouldn't blame himself, or… or anything. But who was she to say what he should or shouldn't feel? She – who of all people _hated_ for her thoughts and reflections to be dictated.

"So," she drawled evenly, "if I was to, say, put down that boy back at Port Llast… Dan, was it? The one who thought I was the Butcher of Ember…"

"But you didn't," Casavir answered even before question, with his usual simplicity Adele often felt like punching him for.

"Just because he was stopped from attacking. But if he did…?"

"He didn't. We didn't allow him to. There's always another way. Always. I hadn't found it back then. Of that I am guilty, no matter what…" he went silent abruptly, staring too intentionally on the damned laces, then heaved a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, but… it's just a bit too… personal. Hard to explain. Let us just… leave it, please."

The woman breathed quietly. She didn't know what to answer, really. To try and play Tyr for him would have been going too far.

_And not like some pats on the back and cheesy cheers are going to alter his understandings of right and wrong. He's too big of a boy for that._

"…'kay," she finally said. "I mean… _I_ am – with what happened. Just so you know."

For several seconds there was only silence, broken by the barely audible rustle of fabric, almost torturous in its monotony.

"I appreciate it," the paladin answered at last, with calm gratitude, yet without any indication that her words or opinion swayed him in any way. Maybe that should have upset her – but it didn't.

_So be it. His demons are his own. I've got plenty of mine. At least no pretending we understand each other when we don't. _

Adele closed her eyes, concentrating on careful breathing, allowing her heaving ribcage to form the curves of the corset. Casavir indeed knew what he was doing, for the fabric started to envelop her much more delicately than before, turning from distorted cage to a well-rounded vessel. Cracking her one eye opened, she peeked at the reflection – and suppressed an amazed smile.

_My, you just look at that, it's almost like I have actual boobs._

Casavir's hand slid tentatively along her spine, checking the evenness of the lace, and the paladin rose to his feet, taking a few steps back to appraise the result: "Done, I think."

"And done well, if I might add," Adele finally grinned, giving in to the girlish impulse to turn round and get a better view of her new-formed figure. Her hands didn't wish to come down from her hair, too, as she realized that tucked-up hairstyle fit well with her appearance, leaving the line of her neck uncovered. Nya's pendant also seemed to be in place, shining dimply in the collar of her blouse. The only things out of tune were her travelling boots, worn down and cracked – but Adele liked it that way. At least something familiar to keep her down to earth. "So, how I look?"

The paladin glanced at her reflection, then back at her, and gave a small smile: "Not like yourself."

She snickered: "I guess in this particular case it's for the best."

"Doubtful," he added softly, looking solely at her.

Adele cleared her throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, like they were treading at the line they shouldn't cross (_because she didn't want to, not with him_) and hastily pinned her hair up, turning away from the mirror and the paladin. Quickly scanning the room to make sure she forgot nothing of importance, the woman picked up the plate Casavir brought with him before, lifting the napkin, and smirked at the small pile of buns. Sal could be a questionable cook when it came to complicated meals, but his baking was surely among the best she had a possibility to try in Neverwinter. A shame her corset was already on.

"Bun for the trouble?" she smiled at Casavir. "Can't have any, at least will have a pleasure of seeing them come to use and not wasted."

"We shouldn't make the convoy wait," the paladin was also back to business, but took the plate nonetheless, out if courtesy if not actual hunger.

"Ah, something tells me this whole thing won't start without me anyway."

Adele shook her head slightly to ease the hair, then adjusted the collar of her shirt in the most purposeful manner and took off towards the doors, her smile at ready. Out there was a whole tavern of people who, no doubt, were anxious to wish her good luck and assure her everything is going to be wonderful.

_Smile and nod, smile and nod…_

"Well, I'll be damned."

She froze, the bottom of her stomach falling off into the endless pit, all her insides crawling up into a battle-ready stance at the mere sound of the voice. It took her some time to acknowledge that the opponent was anything than a threat at the moment, obviously hangover or even still drunk, and currently failing the objective of opening his own room. Bishop gazed her over, his tired bloodshot eyes moving with habitual slowness, like warm liquid lead dripping down her skin. Adele returned the gaze, keeping her face neutral despite the irritation – because, damn him, she'd spent too much time on the garment to go and feel naked all over again.

"Wasn't sure you'd show up."

"What, you thought I was going to miss the pompous show of your suicide?" he squinted at her – or at the headache, she couldn't tell. "Though why you decided to dress like a topnotch hooker from the 'Mask' for that is beyond me."

"Coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment," she smiled.

The ranger smirked, looking her over once again. "To earn a compliment you should have had the corset leather. And black. With metal studs. And a whip."

"Dream on, ranger."

"Well, a man needs some fancy image of you to remember in case you are going to lose your head today, doesn't he?"

_Damn you, you asshole, _- her smile cracked to an honest one. –_ I think I missed you._

"It warms my heart to know I won't be forgotten," she nodded, brushing past him, not even the acrid vinegar smell of burnt-out alcohol able to spoil it. She did miss him.

Behind her back Casavir sighed with obvious disgust:

"You know, Bishop, there _are_ occasions when it's better not to come at all than in such a state."

"What, we have some special occasion? Relax, paladin. Our little leader is only going to try and put her ass above her head again. Just your ordinary day."

She barely held from laughing, stepping into the main hall.

_Just your ordinary day indeed._


	32. XXXII: Snakedance 2

**XXXII:** Snakedance (part two)

_At least one more thing you were right about, ranger, - it _**is**_ a damned show._

Adele already failed several attempts to make her eyes follow the audience filling the courtroom – there was too much of them even for mere looking. From her observation point – through a small hidden window in the special back chamber meant for the accused – she couldn't see all of the castle hall, but the unending crowd coming from the main doors was enough to make her suddenly nauseous. She didn't mind the audience – she expected it, of course – but realized that during the way she managed to avoid most of the gawkers, no small thanks to her convoy and the hurry. So now the woman felt like she turned back just in time to see a huge tide that was about to cover her.

_Fuck, why there's so many of you, people?_

"Is every trial such a full house?" she wondered at one of the guards at the doors, those same guys 'accompanying' her from the tavern to the Castle. Nice fellows, knew to keep the distance, but didn't mind a non-committal chat.

"Sure not," the younger one answered. "But not every trial is held in Castle Never. And is concerning Luskan to the pile."

Adele smiled, narrowing her eyes at the throng, picking up separate faces. The woman saw Sand already seated at the table they were to share, defender and defendant. The place on the opposite side, the one of the accuser, was still empty. Commoners were taking the galleries and standing places in the back, seats in the stalls remained reserved for the nobles and those involved. Her companions, mostly. She noticed Elanee all but sneaking in and hiding in the nearest niche, instinctively burrowing as deep as possible into the shadows, with her eyes sliding nervously over the people. Khelgar took place at her side, looking strangely small and vulnerable without his axe and chainmail. He was clearly just as aware of his defenselessness, for the set of his shoulders and his gaze were too defiant, making it clear at first glance that – if anything happens, _anything_ - he was not going down without a fight. Shandra was not far, sitting almost at Sand's back and drumming an anxious staccato with her fingers over the railing that partitioned the seats off from the center. She would lean over it from time to time to ask something of the elf – much to the wizard's displeasure. Grobnar to her left took time to gape around, trying not to miss anything and at the same time to listen to their conversation. Qara walked in, cast an insolent glance over the hall, an empty throne, snorted, as if insulted by the fact she had already arrived while Nasher still hadn't bothered, and strode towards the chairs, leaning back into the last one on the side and crossing her legs.

Adele screwed her eyes, rubbing the face, and barely managed to stop herself from ruffling the arranged hair.

"Ah, there you are," came agitated whisper, and the woman looked out again, incredulous – only to face the tiefling. Neeshka took place near the window, her back against the wall, the picture of innocent lazy lounging. "Took me some time, but I found you," she looked over the ceiling and walls, obviously gloating: "Who could have guessed Castle Never is so shitty at hidden places?"

"Neesh," Adele drawled warningly, which wasn't an easy feat to achieve with voice as low as possible, and shifted from her spot to close the window from the guards. "Get lost before someone caught you, and you ended up between me and Sand."

"You wish," the rouge shot her a laughing glance, but her eyes didn't appear that much joyful at closer look. More like troubled, but forcefully optimistic. "How's it going? You okay?"

"Was. Now have you to worry about. Seriously, out."

"Come on, it hasn't started yet. And won't until they sort all the comers out."

"What, there's _more_ there?"

"It's not about quantity, y'know. Need to hand over all the weapons at the entrance. One of the guards got unlucky card to check Bishop and is busy for, like, half an hour already. Found five daggers. I bet he started to take it as a personal challenge," Adele couldn't stifle a smile, and the tiefling, noticing that, gave her an overly sweet grin. "Nah, don't dream, no one's undressing him. I checked."

"Shut up."

"Why? Look, you're smiling."

"…"

"And I mean it," she leaned closer, "when I say not to be too worried. Even if everything goes wrong, we'll get you out of here. I've got it all on a string."

"…Okay, now I'm terrified."

Neeshka stuck her tongue out at the friend, then pushed herself off the wall, shooting a quick glance at the entrance:

"There's our walking weapon-store. I'd better get to my seat, then".

Adele saw the ranger as well, almost the very moment he walked in, keeping to the shadows from the columns and arches. He didn't bother to look decent, sticking to his usual travelling outfit 'complimented' with the long-suffering cloak and sizzling irritation plastered all over his face. The last was clearly caused by the guard at the doors – but was suddenly gone without a trace as the doors were left behind his back, replaced by no less usual searching gaze examining the environment, like it was yet another territory he might need to take a stand at. That made Adele suspect that despite the diligence the guard still hadn't managed to find _all_ the hidden blades.

…_Damn. I hope he's not so generous as to kill Torio for free, just for the Hells of it…_

Bishop was followed by Casavir, the paladin staring grimly at the ranger's back. It seemed he suspected just as much.

Giving Adele one last wink Neeshka hopped off towards the seats, passing both men. Casavir moved to sit, while Bishop chose a spot in the back, half-vanishing in the mess of the mob, staying out of sight no worse than Elanee. But where the druidess' actions were pure instinct, the ranger knew what he was doing.

After all, he _always_ did.

Evaluating the surroundings, he propped his shoulder to the nearest column, crossing his arms on his chest.

_In the bracer it is then, huh?_

"It's gonna be fun," Neeshka flung at him on the run.

Adele heard the ranger's rusty grim chuckle: "I'll try not to squeal in delight."

The audience started to move, standing up, craning their necks, the flow of whispers rising above, and Adele shifted her eyes back to the doors in time to see the lord of Neverwinter coming in. Nasher was flanked by the ever-present Nevalle and an elderly man Adele didn't know, robed in a white-and-blue mantle of Tyrrans. Still, the golden lining of that mantle spoke pretty plainly of the high position the man held both in the city and the cult.

"Lord Nasher Alagondar, Defender of Neverwinter," the herald at the doors proclaimed while the lord moved up the steps towards the throne. The priest chose to stay at the foot of the stairs. "And Reverend Judge Oleff Uskar, Lord Justiciar of Tyr."

Adele smiled at the unnamed Nevalle, who took his usual place at Nasher's right side, his dark eyes taking in all the guards in the hall, probably getting all the unspoken statements about the mood and behaviour of the mob.

_Someone's surely good in his role of the grey general…_

"Squire?" the soldier behind her back called out, and the woman licked her lips, turning to him to leave.

She didn't see the hall anymore, led through the small corridor, but Nasher's voice was strong enough (and without a doubt enhanced by smart acoustics of the Castle) to hear:

"Bring in the accused."

_Well… Here comes nothing._

She had to hold her step, just for the second, when suddenly all the gazes in the hall were crushed on her. But strangely enough it weren't those that bothered her – it was the floor, the same damned marble floor that turned every touch of boot to a drumbeat. In contrast to it the hushed silence seemed to be deafening.

_Come __on__, __people__. __Can't you at least whisper or something, discuss, I don't know…_

No one did. She had her share of public shows, fighting mostly, all the fest-duels when she and Derek had travelled through the Mere during Harvest seasons to earn some coin, doing what a bard and a fencer could do – bringing people entertainment - but the crowd was never this silent. Cheers, cat-calls, laughs – nothing.

Adele drew a breath through her nose, slowly, not slackening her pace, inwardly looking for any opportunity to break the cursed stillness. Bowing in front of Nasher, she stole a glance to her side, at the accuser's place that was already taken by Torio. The Luskan woman was calm, her lids lowered, but that didn't prevent their eyes from meeting. Torio nodded, barely. Straightening up, Adele markedly returned her nod, with a frosty drawl:

"Ambassador."

That was enough to bring a tad of unrest, muffled whispers in the back, and Adele smiled, her smile just as small and private as was Torio's nod before. Ambassador gave no signs of acknowledgement, only her eyes turned colder under the lowered lashes.

_Wanted a play, did you? Bring it on, honey. Let's play._

* * *

He watched her.

Watched as she marched through the hall, with tossed up head and straight back. Funny, but it never occurred to him before how much she resembled her own blade. Long, thin and sharp, with her boyishly square and bony shoulders repeating the line of the guard, the mess of her streaked hair as intricate as the ornate hilt rapiers usually had.

_Except for that part where the blades don't have tight peachy assess to sway around._

Bishop smirked despite the ache splitting his head in halves. Tension of the crowd, hushed mumblings passing from mouth to mouth would have been petty in any other day, but this morning every accursed sound was like a needle soaked in acid that scuffed slowly into his ear, forced a jagged way through his brain and ended up stuck in the inner side of his eyeball. Watching the two-coloured eye-candy was a small consolation, but at least something to make up for the trouble.

For the trouble of even _coming_.

He soothed himself with the notion he was merely a spectator. Everything was settled, all his things packed. If the wench was going to lose the trial, he'd be out of the city and leagues away by nightfall. After getting hold of the girl Luskans might turn curious about her companions as well, and he wanted none of that crap. Especially with the demon's plan about sneaking the princess out from the custody if that happened.

He heard about it, of course. The demon herself was the one to approach him with it. Smart, surely, poking the snakes' nest. Not that he had any illusions about the amount of brain in that horned head, but it appeared there was always a place for wonder.

_You are surrounded by morons, princess. What's even worse - eager morons._

He still could not figure out why the demon decided he even cared. Of course, a shame to waste such a sassy sweetmeat on Luskan (_or on Neverwinter at that… damn, on anything_) but even _his_ score with them didn't go so far as to risk his hide so straightforwardly. It was enough he chose to _be_ here in the first place (still wondering if it was any smarter than the princess' decision to go on with the whole stupid suicidal jig), in a guarded Castle, with enough of Torio's escort to gut anyone they deemed necessary – or just felt like it – while he had little to offer in return were it to come to that.

Yet here he was. Watching her. Despite all odds actually wishing the bitch pulled it through. Not just for the sake of sparing him another run-in with Luskans (_although that'd be a nice bonus – and less for you to owe me for_) but… just because. Because he wasn't done with her. Hardly. To the point he was starting to ponder whether leaving right away, even in case of her failure, was that good of an idea.

Just to think of it… If the princess lost, but the whole 'escape' shit worked out – and if she's nice enough - he might actually take her with him. Desperate and followed, stolen away from her gushing retinue, she'd certainly be less corny and easier to handle.

_But don't worry, Duncan. When the commotion dies out – and I've got my full of her – I'll be sure to send her back. _

_One piece at a time._

* * *

It all went as they planned. The evidence itself was enough to send some rash among the audience, no matter the pieces were mostly circumstantial and pretty much arguable. Torio flashed her trump card then, bringing Alaine in, but it also didn't turn in her favour.

Sand kept his promise - he pretty much destroyed the girl.

Alaine had changed. Became calmer and more composed, even dry at times. But her numb self-possession was as fragile as glass, shattered quite easily by the barrage of 'clarifying' questions. How came she escaped? Why had she even been in Port Llast? What about the shipments? Had she met the accused before? Hadn't the accused protected the very village from unknown creatures? Hadn't she been helpful and cooperative? Why would she come back and do something like that? How the accused looked? What weapon she wielded? Why would she? Who accompanied her? _Why? How? What?_ All the questions they could have asked her before the Trial, but chose not to.

The girl didn't cry anymore, but the haunted and confused look in her eyes when she was casting them between Sand, Adele, Torio and all the damned audience wasn't much better. Adele would have preferred to hide away from that gaze (behind Ambassador's corpse would've been nice), but forced herself to watch. She was the one to agree to it, after all. And curse it all – it worked, if the anxious voices and looks from the crowd were any indication.

_I'm sorry, girl. But I'm sorry for myself more. I will not endanger my life just to spare you a couple of sobs._

It was Shandra who broke, springing up from her place and calling out for Alaine, trying to calm her or reason with her or whatever. From the pleased look on Sand's face Adele figured that even if her lawyer hadn't planned on that particular outbreak, he certainly welcomed it.

They got what they wanted – a doubt. Alaine admitted that the one she saw might have as well been someone else.

"Enough," Torio's cold voice, carefully iced with the edge of contempt, cut through the uproar of the audience. "Scared and confused as the witness is by you, I will not allow torturing her any further."

"That surely didn't stop _you_ from bringing her here in the first place," Sand parried calmly. "Without even trying to give the poor thing a chance to _think over_ what happened."

Torio sighed: "Objection. I do not think the defender can qualify as a mind-reader to guess the accusing side's thoughts and actions."

"Oh, there's no tiniest need to be one for that."

"Accuser is right," Reverend Judge was a bastion of composure, something so habitual of followers of Tyr that Adele nearly felt like being converted. _Do they give that calmness in potions, I wonder?_ "I would ask _both_ sides to refrain from predicating each other motives apart from those we gathered here for."

'Both sides' gave almost identical jaded nods. From Alaine's empty gaze Adele could tell that the girl didn't see much difference between the two. Hells, Adele herself didn't.

_Come now,_ - the voice inside snickered. _– The only difference is that one side is __**yours**__, and the other isn't._

…_Probably. _

Alaine was led out, with Sand quietly hissing at Shandra when the farmer almost gave voice to ask if she could follow. Torio smiled:

"Quite short-tempered even with your own, Defender?"

"Just cautious not to threaten the rules of this fair Court," Sand returned her smirk lightly.

"Oh but of course, you'd know much about threatening," Torio leaned forward on her arms and, forestalling the same objection that she herself made earlier, raised her voice to address both the Judge and the audience. "I call forth another witness. A man, who also had a rather questionable luck of meeting the accused and her followers – and was left with no less than worry for his own well-being!"

Adele arched her brow, threw a quick sidelong glance at Sand. _The Hells?_ Her lawyer merely shrugged:

"My defendant was a member of the Watch, so I'd guess that quite a _lot_ of shady elements around the city had a reason to worry for their _well_-being".

"Ah, there is so much wrong in your statement, I won't even start arguing it," Torio made a gesture towards the witness-stand. "I call forth Elgun, the resident of Port Llast," she smiled at Sand again, "a town rather _beyond_ your defendant's duties and Neverwinter Watch, am I correct?"

_Oooooh, damnit…_

That swollen rumpled face was nearly the last Adele expected to see. Even though Elgun obviously did his best to appear presentable – put on what looked like his best tunic (clean, at least), comber his beard and such – his efforts were in vain, not managing to conceal the overbearing sagginess of his whole self. He didn't meet her gaze, sparing but a fleeting (although wary) look in her and Sand's direction. The wizard's face was a careful mask of guarded apathy.

Adele caught herself on a wish to look back, at Bishop, for only a moment, just to see his eyes, if they reflected the same fury _she_ felt, if he considered bringing his old threats to the guy to life as much as _she_ did…

She didn't. It wasn't necessary. Even without it she felt resentment towards the drunkard from her other companions – her friends – coming from behind her, almost palpable.

"Please, Elgun," Torio settled back in her place, "tell the court about the circumstances of your meeting with the accused and her… followers. Remember you are under protection, you have nothing to fear."

_Protection, sure. You are on your own the moment you leave this hall, you pathetic trash. _

She was careful for none of those thoughts to reflect on her face, keeping its expression peaceful, with just the right amount of fair confusion. Sand at her left hand nearly emanated chill.

"To be honest, those weren't pretty, lady Ambassador," Elgun started, and Adele had to fight hard not to wince at the sound of his voice. "It happened just some days after Ember was… after the horrible, horrible tragedy that happened to those poor people. I was in our town tavern, and well… not at my best, I tell ya. I was horrified, and drunk, and… probably too shook up about what happened. And nobody knew anything, so I… I started to… lie. Told some totally unbelievable tales about how I tried to help those in Ember and… don't get me wrong, those were some totally fantastic lies, and everyone understood that, but I… I guess I was just too sorry for those people, and that nobody really helped them, so I was like trying to… fill the gap, even if with lies, ya know…" he cast a hollow gaze around the silent audience. "I know it was wrong, but it sort of… calmed me and those around, like… like someone at least tried indeed…"

"_What_ is he talking about?" Shandra nearly demanded from her place, not bothering to keep her voice low, earning a glance from Torio.

"Oh, he was taught _good_," Sand muttered icily.

"So that's when the… accused lady and her company come in," Elgun went on, his face red, probably enjoying attention just as much as before, when he played a demon-fighter in the ruins of burning village. "You know, all ragged and armoured and… Not that I have anything against adventurers and the sort, as long as they keep to themselves and don't go around brandishing those weapons on peaceful folk…"

"But these ones did not?" Torio prompted gravely.

"No, no, they heard me talkin' and in an eyewink they were all around me. Like wolves, you know. Cut me off from the rest of the folk and… told me to shut up. In some ways I deserved that, I know, and I was about to… I thought they, perhaps, had friends in Ember and were insulted…" Adele nearly felt Shandra twitching, but didn't tear her eyes from the damned 'witness'. "But then they said I could earn my own death with my words. That murderers of Ember will come for me and deal with me for stealing some of their… fame."

"Did they. How come they were so well aware of the 'murderers' intentions and feelings?"

"That I wondered, too, lady Ambassador. Started to wonder later, but then and there I was too scared to think it over. I swear, there was that guy among them, he had a _face_ of a killer."

_And to think of it, he's not lying in a single word…_

She wanted him dead. Just like that, out of the blue, she wanted someone simply dead. Without any fight or accident, merely crushed in his place, like one would crush a rat's scull under their heel. She could almost hear the wet crack of the bone, the sound so unexpectedly pleasing it sent shivers up her arms…

"Some company to keep for a fair Neverwinter watchman, indeed," Torio smiled. "I have no further questions, Reverend Judge. The scene was drawn in front of our eyes quite vividly."

"I do," Sand rose from his place, his lips forming a smile as well, a smile that suddenly and momentarily put Adele at ease. Circling the table to come closer to Elgun, the elf greeted him with a slight friendly nod and spread his hands around the hall. "Just for the sake of the _holy_ procedure we are taking part in…" he carefully stressed the word and smiled again, "I am sure the witness is aware of the penalties the Just One implies on those dishonest, but have to make sure. Are you, my friend?"

"I…" Elgun shifted his eyes for a second, but took a breath and went on. "I am not lying, if that's what you mean. I get it why you would want so, since you were among them as well, but…"

"Just making sure, my friend, just making sure," Sand's smile was as slim and smooth as a line of the noose. "_Last_ thing I want is for you to lie. But I hope that the surveillance of Great Tyr will help you to be _exact_ in the important details. Now please, care to elaborate on what _precisely_ had my client told you upon your meeting."

"Uhm…" Elgun shot a glance at Adele, who watched him serenely. _I never said a word to you, scum, and you know it, right? _"It wasn't her exactly, it was that guy…"

"Yes, yes," Sand waved him off, "we've all heard about that mysterious 'guy' who obviously was as terrifying and real as the demons you've faced protecting Ember. Unless you can point him among my client's companions…" he made a gesture towards the seats, where, Adele knew, no Bishop was to be found. The woman held back a smile, "…so we could call him forward and question, I suspect we can let him be… whatever realm he exists in. My question was about this _girl's_ threatening you."

"She… she didn't, not directly, but…"

"She didn't."

"You did."

"I did," Sand rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose in weariness, then shook his head as if to clear it from dust. "Very well, in what way had _I_ made it known I mean any harm to you?"

"You were the one who said that murderers will come for me if I go on telling I was there. Said you were seriously worried about my well-being…"

"Which is a threat _how_?"

"But you said in such a tone…"

"What tone?"

"Well, this… special tone, like you meant the opposite…"

"That the murderers _won't_ come for you?"

"No, that… that it's not like it is some worry, but it's like it's… not."

Sand blinked theatrically. "Huh?"

"Objection, Reverend Judge," Torio gave voice. "The witness is not a man of great education, so the defender's wordplay is naturally confusing for him."

"_My_ wordplay?" Sand gaped at her, then at Oleff.

"Please, Sand," Torio sneered. "I believe everyone understood what he intended to say."

"…Oh, very well, I probably just do not possess this talent of… alternative hearing," he grunted, earning a couple of chuckles from the stalls. "My initiate question was about my client anyway, and since there isn't a single thing the witness has to say about her…"

"But she was there, with others and with you, when you were telling all this, and then that guy, and he had that look…"

"As _special_ as my tone, I'd guess."

"Yes, just that look, and if she hadn't stopped him, he'd probably just killed me on spot."

"So she _stopped_ someone from harming you?" Sand stared at Elgun. "And you are _accusing_ her?" he shook his head violently. "One last time: was there any threat or any other word coming from this woman's mouth or any single gesture towards _you_?"

Elgun opened his mouth, closed, then swallowed, dropping his shoulders: "No."

The wizard threw his hands up, looking around the mob, then stared pointedly at Elgun: "What are you even _doing_ here, then?" Without giving him time to answer, the elf turned away with a disdainful shake of his head. "I do not see any point in further questions, Revered Judge. What I _do_ see," he raised his voice before Oleff uttered a sound, "is a liar dreaming of cheap fame he failed to get from the deaths of those in Ember – so is still trying to dance on their remains! But what was passable for a filthy alehouse," the elf pointed an accusing finger at the drunkard, who looked very much like he wished the earth could swallow him up, "would _not_ be tolerated in Neverwinter and Great Tyr's court!"

"Objection!" Torio snarled. "I don't think the Defender has the right to speak for _all_ the court."

"Then get this mockery of a man out of our sight, so he would not insult the procedure and the tragedy that had happened with his presence!" Sand pinched the bridge of his nose again, 'calming' himself and carefully ignoring the approving hum from the stalls, "And I object my own words and behaviour, Reverend Judge, but beg to forgive me. Some things are just beyond my patience. I'm done with the witness."

Elgun was led out, followed by the agitated mumble of the crowd. Among them separate threats and calls were easy to catch. The triumph Adele had felt suddenly got thinned with cold sticky worry. She knew the feeling. The feeling she was holding onto something that was totally out of her control.

A tide, again.

Still, she squeezed out a smile as Sand settled back in his place by her side, and cocked her head a tad for him to hear her whisper:

"Overacted a bit there, if you ask me."

"Ah, I get carried away too easily when I'm on the roll," the wizard snorted. "Besides, we are dealing with a mob. Like the overall speed of the armada is calculated by the _slowest_ ship, since others are bound to wait for her, so is the brightness of the crowd should be judged by its dumbest member. My little performance was hard not to get, I hope."

"He can get lynched at this rate."

"And you'll feel sorry for him?"

"…No."

"Better him than you, my dear."

"…True."

…_but still too sticky…_

"Does the accusing side have further witnesses to present?" Oleff's voice reached her.

"Oh yes I do," Torio was smiling again, her eyes fastened on someone behind Adele's back. "I guess we should hear out someone who is not connected to Ember. Someone whom the defense cannot discard so easily. Who knows the accused all too well. I call forward Shandra Jerro."

The farmer, leaning against the rail, gave a start almost as if she got slapped, and stared wide-eyed at Sand turning back to look at her: "…What?"

Sand sighed, obviously not all too pleased: "You'll have to, my dear, I'm afraid."

"But… I…" Shandra gaped at Adele, nearly pleading.

The woman shrugged lightly: "Just tell her whatever you think you should, and be done with her. She deserves nothing more from you."

"I'd rather just spit on her and be done like _that_," she hissed.

Adele grinned: "Your chance."

Shandra gave a shake to her ever-tousled hair, then gnashed her teeth and headed towards the stand, her arms by her sides, hands rolled into fists. Torio met her stomping with the same unfaltering soft smile, making a welcoming gesture.

"Please, Shandra, take your place. Remember, you can speak freely here."

"About what? About these false accusations?"

"No. I'm much more interested in hearing about the accused from you. You've been by her side for quite some time now, have you not?"

"I have," both Shandra's look and voice were so guarded, like she expected a punch in the stomach any moment.

Torio stood up from her seat, slowly, a snake rising from the twists and folds of her coiled body.

"Then tell me, please," she looked up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder, the very tips of her fingers propping her against the stand, "during your travels… have you ever witnessed the accused causing… or in any other way being a source… of destruction that is at least remotely comparable to those in Ember?"

Shandra blinked:

"No, of course not."

"No? Not even… your home?"

"But it wasn't her, those were —"

"Wasn't her, yet again, yes. Yet she was there?"

"Well, yes, but —"

"Both times it was attacked _and_ burned to the ground?"

"Yes, but that wasn't like —"

"I'm afraid this whole case is not about what it's _like_, Shandra," Torio seeped out coldly. "Tell me – us – please: looking back, now, this very moment, can you be sure, with a hand upon your heart, that any of the disasters that happened to you would have happened anyway, even _without_ the accused crossing your path?"

"…Oh sweet Mystra," Sand muttered, frowning at Shandra's utterly shocked face. "How I hoped to keep her as far away from this as possible…"

Adele didn't react, waiting for the farmer to answer. The girl had her right to, after all.

"…I…" Shandra gave a shuttered sigh. "I don't know. No. Maybe. I mean…"

Torio smiled: "I suppose we all understood well what you mean. Thank you, Shandra," she sat back into her chair, still smiling. "No questions, Reverend Judge."

Shandra swallowed hard, giving the ambassador an incinerating glare, and pushed herself off the stand almost convulsively, meaning to return to her place - but Sand's soft voice stopped her in her tracks:

"Just a moment, my dear."

The farmer gave him a drained empty look:

"…Sand, please…"

He raised his hands in a placating gesture: "I do not intend to torture you, I promise. I simply feel that you were so harshly interrupted every time you tried to evolve your thought… that lady accuser's assumption was a bit too hasty. Please, I want to give you an opportunity to explain. Do you indeed consider lady Farlong to be capable of something horrible?"

Shandra flailed her hands helplessly: "No, come on!" she squeezed her lids shut, then gave her head another furious shake and stared at the audience. Her gaze fluttered from one face to another, not really finding - or even understanding – whom exactly she wants to prove something. "Look, she's… She _is_ trouble, alright? But it's not that she makes 'em, she just… has so much crap falling on her from nowhere, that there's always a bit of it travelling on her heels. But the thing is how she _deals_ with those troubles. She does! She always does, and she always makes her damned best to make it the right way! I swear, sometimes she is _impossible_ in her stubborn wish to solve _everything_ on her own! But it's hard not to admire. And to help her, no matter what. To support her, to follow her…"

"…And even kill for her?" Torio drawled.

Shandra's glare snapped to her, enraged: "…What? …For almighty gods, if you start accusing _me_ of what happened in Ember now, I…"

"No, no, I'm just… evolving your thought, as the defender put it," the Luskan woman tilted her head curiously. "I have to wonder, Shandra – how many people have you killed since joining the accused in her… travels."

"…None," the farmer stated firmly. "Animals, beasts, yes, but not a single person."

"But you will? If she tells you to?"

"I _have_ to object that," Sand put in, "the witness' assumptions about her own possible behaviour are of no importance to the case and the trial."

"Oh, but the ability of the accused to influence those around her, to inspire this… unhealthy devotion and to change people to the point of ruining their own selves for her speaks volumes of her person," Torio exclaimed.

"Continue," Oleff nodded to Shandra.

Sand cursed quietly. Adele did not utter a sound, just watching the girl, the sucking void inside of her turning freezing…

_Because I do… Damn it all, I do._

_I don't want to, but…_

_Don't you? Truly?_

…

"…She'll never tell anything like that," Shandra finally said.

"Indeed? But if what I know is true, you've been a peaceful farmer until you met her. It was _her_ who gave you weapon, who taught you to use it, to take lives with it…"

"And to protect myself. So, yes, if anyone threatens me, my friends, my family or those things dear to me – I will kill them. And yes, it was _her_ who taught me finally how to be able to do that," Shandra set her chin defiantly. "That's what you wanted to know, _ambassador_?"

Adele smiled. A slow winning smile, that didn't even need any reasons and proofs from Torio, her cold glare or anything, to appear.

_That's my girl._

Shandra left the stand, finally free to go, and all but stumbled to her place, the adrenaline obviously leaving her at every step. When she was passing their table, Adele took a second to touch her wrist lightly, encouragingly, and the farmer stared at her, dark eyes shimmering feverishly. Not tears, but very close to them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Told you I can't… I screwed everything, eh?"

"No, not at all," Adele smiled at her again, softly, squeezed her arm just a tad. "You did wonderful… And I'm sorry, too," she added – perhaps, of all the times she spoke those words to the farmer, for the first time truly meaning it.

Shandra nodded nervously and made way to her seat, nearly collapsing into it. Casavir at her side put a steadying and calming hand on her shoulder, and the girl closed her eyes. Qara stared the ambassador up and down and smirked coldly:

"And then you call _me_ a witch, huh?"

"Oh pretty please, can _I_ be a witness?" Neeshka pleaded sarcastically. "I've got _much_ to tell her."

"Any more witnesses on the accusing side?" Judge Oleff inquired with the same stone-cut face, only his eyes giving an indication of life, calmly seeping in everything and everyone around. Evaluating. Judging. Nasher on his throne was also very good at impersonating a statue.

"One more, yes," Torio nodded. "One last witness. The most _undeniable_ witness, if I may say so. I call forth the accused."

_Finally._

With a sigh of relief Adele rose from her place, feeling strangely light and almost glad. She had her full of sitting back and listening to all this bullshit. There must have been something with her face – smiling, probably – because Sand gave her a cautious look and muttered: "Play careful, I beg of you."

"Ain't I always?" she cooed just as quietly.

"You never."

Barely managing to suppress the grin, Adele strode towards the stand, ignoring the stares, the cursed floor, even the corset trying to gnaw into her spine. Torio met her with a slight smile of her own, nothing close to friendly or amicable, but it showed none of the uncertainty or nervousness the woman did - or didn't – feel. Even under the cross-fire of hating glances, mutters and all around hostile surroundings, ambassador was able to keep her composure. It made Adele think that - in another time, another place, another circumstances - she might have liked the woman.

But all of those were as they were.

So she took her place, laying her palms carefully on the stand, and nodded: "I'm ready, ambassador."

"…Ready?" Torio echoed. "Are we at battle, squire? Or are you always so… eager?"

The provoking challenge was so obvious that Adele merely smiled: "Ask your questions. If you have any."

"Only one," the woman held a pause, looking straight at her with her eyes hooded. "Why did you kill the people of Ember?"

"I didn't."

Torio spread her hands theatrically, indicating she never expected any other answer: "Why? Why do you keep denying your guilt?"

"Because I'm not guilty?"

"Oh, but of course you are not. You'll never admit it, will you? When all you really need to do is simply to confess. That'll ease your fate and your conscience, too."

"My conscience is fine."

"Fine?!" Torio widened her eyes. "Then what kind of monster are you? To kill tens of people, children included, without a drop of remorse or guilt?!"

She tried too hard, her tone, gestures, expressions of her face – all were exaggerated, almost absurd… but it worked. It grated the nerves, scraped them, faintly, like a jarred out-of-key tune just at the edge of one's hearing, when you almost believe you no longer hear it - until find yourself grinding your teeth in irritation.

_Play carefully…_

"Is a person with clear conscience such a rare meeting in your life, Ambassador, that you'd rather believe one to be a monster?" Adele wondered and slowly shook her head, forestalling Torio's objection. "I mourn the people of Ember. I feel sick at the mere thought someone was capable of such a thing – even more sick at the thought he is _still_ walking somewhere free and clear… and instead of trying to find him I have to stand here. But I am not guilty."

"So you'd rather be hunting someone down?" Torio clarified innocently. "Feel this _right_ to arbitrate justice, huh?"

"My words were 'find him', not judging him," Adele smiled slightly. "Hunting down a criminal, yes. That's what we watchmen do. It's our work and duty. It can be unpleasant, but duties are not about being pleasing, are they. It's just something that you do," she shrugged, accompanied by agreeing sighs and mumbles from the stalls. "I cannot imagine you are enjoying what you have to do here today, Ambassador, yet here you are. Duty, isn't it."

Torio's eyes narrowed dangerously. Adele kept smiling, faintly, so that hardly anyone but the Luskan woman could see her smile. _Go ahead and argue, honey. Start proving to these people that you __**are**__ glad being an accusing harpy, and even your Garius won't be able to dig you out of the shit_.

"I have this weird feeling_ I_ am the one being accused of something here," Torio drawled.

"I bet this feeling is no less weird than mine."

"But even you have to agree, _squire_, that all the circumstances and happening around Ember are so suspiciously centered around you. In no way do I even want to connect those happenings to your own words about duty and all, but if to remember that Ember is Luskan ground… and how conveniently you've became a squire right after that…"

"Ambassador," it was Nasher's voice this time that boomed over the hall, almost making Adele jump. The tone was even, but there was no mistaking of well-controlled rage to it. "You are threading a dangerous line here."

"Ah, but of course, I beg to forgive me, Lord Nasher," Torio inclined her head obediently, "I meant no disrespect to the land and the lord." Straightening up, she stared right at Adele again. "Unless the squire did, being accused of murder such horrid, yet finding it appropriate to shield herself with _duties_."

_Oh, you…_ - Adele bit her lip not to grin. - _You're good, I'll give you that._

"You ask questions, I answer them. You do seem to find amusement in twisting them your way, but, unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about it. Only to have faith into the just court and the wisdom of my people."

"Very well, then," Torio went on, "if you insist on your words and your motives being solely your own, then, perhaps, you'd like to _finally_ clarify, what interest could you have in Ember? What _could_ those people do to earn such a cruel fate?" she allowed herself a tiny smirk. "Did they also accuse you of something? Stepped into the way of your duties? Angered you?"

Adele took a breath, trying to catch the drift of the surroundings, that unseen but palpable swirls of the tide around her. She might be wary of it, but she knew well she'd have to catch it to get out of it all.

It was her duel. Held in the raging storm, yes, but this particular storm could be used to her advantage, as long as it was at her back.

"To be honest, Ambassador, that was the thing I wondered as well for very long. Why Ember? Why of all places?"

"I suppose you know it better than anyone."

"But I don't. Really. There was nothing special to that place. They posed no threat to anyone… Gods, there was even nothing to rob there, from those farmers! Just a tiny village, with the only thing of notice is its being Luskan grounds."

"So you _do_ agree this deed was aimed against Luskan? What was it, an inhuman yet, in your opinion, effective way of testing our borders? Our resolve? Too despicable, don't you think?"

_Not yet…_

Adele shook her head, going on in the same tone, as if ambassador hadn't interrupted her musings at all, "Then again, that doesn't make much sense either. Everyone knows enough about Luskan to fool themselves with thoughts such a loss would mean at least _anything_ to the City of Sails," agreeing murmurs almost made her smile again, but she restrained herself. "If one wanted to hurt Luskan, they'd choose a more prominent target, especially now, when your city is distracted by war already."

Torio held a pause, clearly more cautious now, watching her closely. "The way you make it sound _slaughter_ could possibly be your only reason. Just to spill blood? Murder for the sake of murder?"

"Trust me, the last thing I even want to consider is that someone can be so heartless as to raze out tens of people simply to see them dead, to entertain his own bloodlust… But truly, I simply don't see any other reason. Because… if to look at it now… the only thing accomplished with this massacre is that people of Ember are dead. Cold and dead, and I'm standing here accused of it," she sighed, taking her own time in turn, then looked back at the ambassador. "Unless me being here _was_ the reason?"

"…I'm sorry, what?"

_Carefully… _

"Come now, Ambassador," she purred. "I've been personally attacked by Luskan soldiers and mercenaries several times in row by now! In what way have I interfered with Luskan's plans to want me dead so badly?"

"Doesn't it seem to you that you put too much importance into yourself?" Torio sniffed condensingly. "No forces of Luskan set foot in Neverwinter for a long time now, and I can't imagine them doing so just for you."

"Personally, I couldn't agree more, but they did", Adele kept her voice soft, reveling in the hushed sounds of murmurs and separate angry shouts from the audience. _Just a bit more…_ "Into the Docks first, then breaking the sacred rite of the Vigil, attacking me right in the Solace Glade…"

"Unless you have some proof of your words and that those attacking you were connected to Luskan in any way, I suggest you stop trying to –"

"Signet rings of the Circle of Blades, a guild originating from Luskan if I'm not mistaken."

"No guild is subordinate to any city," Torio snapped. _Yes, honey, go on, as protective as possible, please… _"Hearing this much about you today, it comes as no surprise you have many enemies. _Anyone_ could hire a mercenary from the guild. Especially _after_ Ember. I guess you can imagine what fair rage feels like, and I wouldn't be surprised if quite a few of citizens were willing to spare some money to make sure the butcher gets her due."

"…Or never gets to the court of Neverwinter, since the attempts to drag her to Luskan for trial failed?" Adele prompted, arching her brow. "And I have to say I _can_ imagine what fair rage feels like. Perfectly. For it is only the respect for this court, my Lord and those present in the audience that stops me from doing what any watchman in my place should do," Torio tossed her head expectantly, waiting for careless accusations. Adele gave her none of that, raising her voice: "To gag the all-too-loud harlot, drag her through the street and lock up in a cell!"

It hit in the back, the deafening billow of shouts and laughs, and someone was even applauding, for gods sake - but this time it was the tide _she_ was riding. Adele nearly felt her feet leaving the ground, her stomach filling with exhilarating emptiness, echoing with something almost sensual in the pit of her body, so strong that it sent tickles to the very tips of her fingers and toes…

Whatever words Torio had had to say before, she chocked on them, anger flushing her face with crimson. Adele wanted to smile, but her head was reeling so much she wasn't sure she could manage any controlled expression or gesture at the moment. It was scary. And wrong. And perfect.

_Damn, if Sand is feeling at least remotely like this every time, I can't blame him for what he does…_

Thrill in its purest. Battle was the only thing that ever evoked something like this in her. But wasn't it battle? Her duel. Totally hers. And she won.

Adele grinned. Bishop smirked back, dryly, in his usual 'you-bitch' expression - and it was only then she realized that she was looking at him. That somehow, without giving thought to it, she found his face and his eyes in the crowd. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she forced herself to look away. Liar. It wasn't only battle. There was one single person who was also able to wake this turmoil of emotions in her. And it always felt just that – scary, and wrong, and perfect…

"Silence!" even Nasher's order wasn't able to hush the mob, but at least it snapped Adele out of her oh-so-out-of-place musings. "And I have to demand respect for the court from _both_ of you this time! If this does not stop, the trial shall be dismissed!"

Adele made an agreeing bow, perhaps just a little too flippant – but damn, as if she could help it.

"Any more questions, Ambassador?" after the breakout the Reverend's stone-calm voice sounded like a form of mockery.

"No," Torio snarled, ignoring the crowd and its catcalls. "I have no patience for this farce! If we could please get back to the actual _trial _instead of this buffoonery, I'd be more than grateful."

"Agreed," Adele quipped in, sweeping one last triumphant gaze over the audience, even as far as the ambassador's side, her escort and…

Lorne Starling stared right back.

…

…_wh…?_

…_h…?_

All sounds drained. She blinked, tried to open her mouth, but her suddenly dry lips sintered together.

_no…_

_no?_

His face was blank, deep frown seemed to be engraved into his very features, hardly meaning a thing. She blinked again, fighting hard to avert her eyes, to look away, just to clear her mind a bit and then _make sure_, because for every fucking gods sake it couldn't be true, of course… Because it was, and she knew it was all along, even before the blasted trial, but that didn't mean she was ready for this _right now…_

_Snap out, you idiot. Make those feet moving, now! _

…_I have to get out…_

_You can't!_

Adele wasn't sure how she made it back to the table, with her legs and feet feeling like they turned to shuttered glass.

"My, my," Sand smirked. "For a moment or two I thought it would be better to throttle you then and there, but you do have a talent of slithering your way through a needle-eye, I have to admit."

"He's here," she whispered.

Her lawyer's eyes turned calculating: "Who?"

"_Lorne_ is here."

Sand followed the trajectory of her gaze from before, taking time to murmur: "Something I should know, my dear?"

"…What?"

"Like how you were able to recognize him?" he glanced at her sideways, more curious than suspicious, but – bless him – chose to let it slide. "To be honest, I expected him to be somewhere around Torio."

Adele drew a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm down her galloping thoughts, to _not_ look back where Lorne stood, now with some kind of hood over his head - poor camouflage, but heck, hadn't she used a stupid hat for the same purpose? Ironic. Must be. Even more so, were she to choose the Trial by Combat thing, she knew now whom she'd have had to face on the battlefield... The accused and the murderer. That's one irony to die for.

"Don't call Marcus in," she hissed into Sand's ear.

"Are you insane? Our key-witness?"

"He knows Lorne. He saw him. If he meets him here, it… I don't know what can happen, and I don't want to!"

"No."

"Hells take you, Sand, he's a kid, I forbid you!"

He shrugged: "I'm sorry, my dear. But you _are_ getting innocent out of this."

The elf moved away, up from his place, ready to take his turn in calling the witnesses. Adele covered her eyes with her hand. Never in her life had she felt so helpless and lost…

* * *

Something went wrong. Like an invisible switch of some spell that triggered and drained the wench to her bone. Just a moment before she was standing there, her face nearly splitting in halves with her 'I-fucked-you-hard' smile he hated so much when targeted on him, but enjoyed seeing used on others… And now nothing more than a rugged doll thrown into the chair.

Bishop didn't pay much attention to what was going on. The elf called forth his witness, but there was no need for them. The bitch won, he felt is as sure as everyone. Both the dwarf from the Nine, and that slip of an elf from Port Llast – whatever they were saying was only an icing to their all-around-perfect and gutsy little squire, a rich gilding to the frame of the breath-taking portrait she and her wizard with the farmwench painted here. It was still surprising that someone actually _saw_ her like that, but Bishop long since dropped all the attempts to fathom this blinding and stupefying aura the scrawny siren possessed.

Ambassador tried to bite back, but those were death convulsions, nothing more. Although it was a tad amusing seeing her managing a kick at the wizard, stripping him as being a Luskan right in front of the very mob they together with his 'client' had forced to hate Luskan with all their guts. Of course, the princess growled something in his defense, even though her eyes promised murder to him. She still wasn't the fool to abandon one of her faithful flock in the face of danger.

_And from now on he'll eat right from your hand, won't he._

The boy was the last straw. If there was such thing as emotional rape, then that's exactly what the sop did to the Luskan. Not that Bishop complained, but he wasn't sure he needed yet another reminding why he did his best to keep away from the little monster. That… creature put him on edge. Even his usual back-up plan of simply eliminating a problem didn't work – the tiny bastard always looked at him so serenely, like he already knew Bishop would do nothing to him.

The princess still showed no signs of life. Neither during the execution the boy arranged for the ambassador, not even when the crowned head so pompously stated the obvious, calling her innocent and sending the crowd into ecstasy. Bishop had his headache not be too loud and cheerful about the notion, but what was the bitch's excuse not to celebrate her victory with at least a sqeak? Whatever it was, she didn't reveal it. Only gave a ghostly smile to her buddies, then leaned back to the wizard whispering something feverishly…

"I demand the Trial by Combat!" the Luskan exclaimed, her shrill voice showing no mercy for the ranger's burning brain.

Bishop squinted at the defender's place, trying to get a glimpse of the girl's reaction. None. It occurred to him she expected a trick no less than him. Smart. Always. Still a bitch, though.

And her eyes were also searching something… someone?

_What the fuck?_

"Ambassador, I am _tired_ of your games," Nasher growled, "and will indulge you no longer."

"In a matter of such importance, you would deny me my sacred right of appeal?" the harpy rounded her eyes, a bad actress all up to the end. Garius must be paying her good – or keeping her scared out of her mind, if the sop could be believed – or both - for her to go on fluttering.

"And who will fight for you, Torio?" Nevalle must have given voice for the first time during the whole trial. "This is no battle with words, though I would like to see you try to match your wit against the blade of a true soldier of Neverwinter."

_Oh, you can be sure she's got someone stashed just for the occasion…_

"Indeed, you are correct, sir Nevalle," she all but sniffed pitifully. "Luskan is not the aggressor here, and I only wish to see justice done. But I cannot defend myself and seek justice in this matter... is there not one who will champion the people of Ember?"

"…She's serious?" the redhead witch snorted.

_You bet she is. _

"_I_ will! I have listened to these lies, and will answer them - with my blade, in Luskan's name!"

All glances were there, on a man, huge as a damned bear, rising from his seat. All Luskan, and all proud of that, wrapped up in such impractical, but oh-threatening fur-crap with a wolf's head Karnwyr would've been glad to relieve himself on. At his side was a blade twice the size of any normal saber – but that one was a perfect match for its owner, any blade smaller would be simply lost in a grip like that.

It took Bishop a second to try and estimate how much fractures of a moment would the giant need to snap his skinny straw of a half-blood in two against the knee. Shitty chances, but she never had any different. That didn't worry him. Not even the fact that the giant's face was faintly familiar – he never bothered with remembering faces of all the blokes he came across, why would he now? But the girl was staring at him, her eyes empty like that of a dead fish. Staring like there was no one else around.

Bishop smirked in realization.

_And so our fair little leader is forced to go and kill someone she knows?_

How could he possibly consider leaving her side? Life around her was getting much more interesting with every damned breath.

"So... it seems this will be decided with blood," Nevalle drawled.

_As if it isn't always…_


End file.
